


Have Love, Will Travel

by kingsofeverything



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: !!!!, 69 (Sex Position), A little, Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Anal, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Armpit Kink, Awkward Flirting, Bad Flirting, Bad Jokes, Beaches, Bicycles, Blow Jobs, Body Hair, Break Up, But also some references to lines from other songs off the album, Cameras, Campfires, Camping, Caves, Clamming, Co-workers, Co-workers to lovers, Communication, Cuddling & Snuggling, Deserts, Dinosaurs, Disney, Disney World & Disneyland, Eventual Smut, Fine Line Fic Fest, Flirting, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Ghost Towns, Hand Jobs, Harry Styles Calls Louis Tomlinson Pet Names, Hiking, Horses, Hot Springs, Humor, I planned the whole thing, I put a lot of effort into researching this, Illustrations, Intercrural Sex, Kayaking, Kissing, Laughter During Sex, Louis Tomlinson Calls Harry Styles Pet Names, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Moonbow, Mutual Pining, No cheating, Ocean, POV Louis Tomlinson, Pining, Plains, RV/Camper, Rafting, Rain, Rainbows, Rimming, Rivers, Road Trips, Romance, Sappy, Sappy Ending, Scents & Smells, Schmoop, Secret Relationship, Sharing a Bed, Shipping, Slow Burn, Smut, Snorkeling, Snorkels, Song fic, Song: Adore You (Harry Styles), State Parks, Sunrises, Sunsets, Surprises, Swimming, THAT IS A REAL THING, Talking, The Last Blockbuster, The smut kind of got away from me so I’m tagging it?, They work for a company that is, Thunder and Lightning, Truck Camper, Unrealistic Sex, Video Cameras, Voyeurism, YouTube, adore you, analanalanal, and harry is a little obsessed with louis' armpits, and vice versa tbqh, as in the shellfish in case that has a sexual meaning I’m unaware of, as this is inspired by that song, briefly, but all the parks are real, but not L and H, cannot believe I almost forgot pining, coral reef, dare i say, definitely not National Geographic, do people use that word anymore, everyone is safe and wears helmets and life jackets, gopro usage lol, hot air balloon ride, i guess? louis is a little obsessed with harry's smell, it’s all very picturesque, it’s ok if you don’t, larry stylinson - Freeform, like if you squint it’s there, only because I wanted to, parks, references to lines from adore you, set in the united states, silly boys acting silly, sort of???, tent camping, that is thigh fucking, that means I think I’m funny, the sex is pretty sappy, there’s a whole lot of nature, this is a cute fic imo, this is all for fun, this is legitimately the fluffiest thing, this trip could really happen, though there are actually 2 beds, waterfalls, what is realism anyway?, yurts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:01:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 97,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24971224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingsofeverything/pseuds/kingsofeverything
Summary: Rather than spend the summer working at their desks, Louis and Harry are given the opportunity to crisscross the country together in a tiny camper, filming their adventures for a YouTube series.It soon becomes obvious to their viewers that there’s something more than friendship between them. Eventually, they figure it out.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles/Original Male Character(s), Louis Tomlinson/Original Male Character(s), those relationships are short-lived & there’s no cheating
Comments: 236
Kudos: 580
Collections: Fine Line Fic Fest





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hereforlou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hereforlou/gifts).



> This fic was written for the [Fine Line Fic Fest](https://finelineficfest.tumblr.com/). Make sure you check out all the other great fics in the collection which can be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/FineLineFicFest/)!
> 
> Thanks to Rebecca for putting this fest together!
> 
> No giant fish or mysterious islands were involved in the making of this fic because it was inspired by “Adore You” the song, not the video. 
> 
> To my beta, Nic @louandhazaf: Thank you for being endlessly supportive. Your excitement about this fic fed mine and kept me going ❤️
> 
> Maggie @hereforlou did the art, and since she said the art is a gift, this fic is for her ❤️
> 
> [Title is from The Sonics version of the song with the same name and it leads off this playlist, if you're interested :)](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6on6CCdq9v30cM9FayI6kH?si=fD7cQWZfSda0hahOxH-gsQ)
> 
> I thought it might be helpful to have some reference photos and measurements:  
> •[camper outside](https://64.media.tumblr.com/0f6019f0f74e262720feb73703091dc9/9ccbaa90b244c011-00/s250x400/8335b0777a5b0293dce3d27067c42144815ad085.jpg)  
> •[camper inside](https://64.media.tumblr.com/fb44ea71610d9fca811cc0b8f46cde2c/9ccbaa90b244c011-2d/s540x810/a4b4300afffe3025cad5de87b8fdf3cf62641d3e.jpg)  
> •[camper floorplan](https://64.media.tumblr.com/839fa453d469671608f4812775bf8fe3/f6242be2880d477f-4d/s540x810/4b41da74151c5b247aa738684d4a090ec7987d39.jpg)  
> •[map of their route](https://64.media.tumblr.com/234714af3f4218ec2a1c079a9893146e/a81d8e1372e676ea-cc/s540x810/b1a90ddea775fe5647d70e389fb0eda5e0c2aca1.jpg)  
>   
>  **If you’d like to translate any of my fics, feel free, but please post the translation on ao3.**  
>    
> **Please do not post this fic or any of my other fics on any other websites.**  
>   
> [Rebloggable fic post :D](https://kingsofeverything.tumblr.com/post/630877050004209664/by-kingsofeverything-with-fantastic-art-by)

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣ 

When Louis got a job working at the gift shop in the Tellurian International Foundation Museum the summer before his senior year of high school, he didn’t think it’d lead to anything other than a small paycheck and free visits to the museum for his family. Yet, a little more than a decade later, he has a burgeoning career as an assistant editor in the books division of the Tellurian International Foundation, and he’s on his way to a meeting with the digital managing editor, Liam Payne, and the new editor-in-chief, Bebe Rexha. 

“Hey, Lou, wait up,” Harry calls from behind him, and Louis stops to let him catch up. 

“Sorry. Thought you’d gone ahead without me,” Louis says, falling into step beside him.

“Was talking to Niall,” Harry says as they turn into the corridor on their way to the conference room. “He’s supposed to be there too. Not sure what it’s about, really.”

“I figure it’s something to do with the state parks guide, since that’s what we’ve been working on,” Louis says, though it really could be about anything. The books division doesn't usually have anything to do with the digital division or the TV division, but their new editor-in-chief is known for working across platforms. “But with digital media people there, Maybe they want to do on-camera interviews with some of the park rangers for the website.”

Harry shrugs, and reaches for the doorknob. “Maybe.”

They step inside the small conference room, and take seats beside each other, closer to the door, just in case it turns out the meeting isn’t really supposed to include two assistant editors from the books division. At the front of the room is Liam, deep in conversation with Bebe, and there’s no way Louis is going to interrupt.

While they’re waiting for the meeting to start, Niall joins them, followed by Zayn, Liam’s right-hand man, but they sit a few seats away, one on each side of the table, so Louis doesn’t feel comfortable saying anything other than a murmured greeting. A few others trickle in, and soon the conference table is surrounded by editors and producers and assistant editors from every division with offices in DC. 

“Okay, that’s everybody,” Bebe says, and the room quiets down. “You all know by now how I feel about combining content across platforms. That, along with a look around the table, should give you an idea what this meeting is about.”

She and Liam sit, and Liam says, “We want to know, for instance, what someone in the magazine division thinks would be a good way to work with social media. Or how someone in the books division thinks we might appeal to our YouTube audience.”

As soon as Liam finishes his sentence, an idea comes to Louis, fully formed. His hand shoots up in the air of its own free will, and Bebe points to him. “Louis, you have an idea?”

“Yeah, actually, I have two,” Louis says, remembering what he said to Harry in the hall. He twists his chair and leans forward. “I thought maybe you’d want to do video interviews with some of the park rangers for the state parks guide we just finished updating. They could talk their parks up for a few minutes, and those would go on YouTube or the main website.”

Bebe hums, steepling her fingers. “Not a bad idea. What’s the second one?”

“Well, you know how we choose what we think are the most interesting parks, right?” Louis asks, and when she nods, he continues, “So I was thinking, you could send a couple of people around to some of the parks. Do a series. They could… I don’t know, there’s that one park with the wild horses on the beach. Would be cool to get video of that. People could sort of experience stuff first hand, you know?”

“Wild horses… That sounds like something people would like to see,” Liam says, scribbling notes on his yellow legal pad. “Anything else, Louis?”

“Oh! I have an idea!” Harry sits up, and Louis looks over at him, giving him a quick nod. “Like Lou said, make it a series. But instead of just videos of the park, the editors or maybe some of the photographers could be a part of the series. In front of the camera. Seeing a wild horse is great, but watching someone else react? People love that stuff.”

“That’s great, Harry,” Louis whispers, reaching over and patting his knee. 

“Okay, let’s expand on that,” Bebe says. “People in front of the camera… GoPros, maybe? They could go kayaking, hiking… all sorts of things. Which parks?”

Louis hums, biting his lip, then says, “One from each state.”

“Oh… Now we’re talking,” Liam says, adding to his notes. “Flight cost would be prohibitive though.”

“Yeah, but…” Harry trails off, pinching his lower lip and frowning.

“What?” Louis asks, tipping his head down to meet Harry’s eyes. 

“Well,” Harry starts, taking a deep breath. “It’s just… People don’t usually fly to parks, right? They drive. They haul their tents and their bikes and their canoes, or maybe they have an RV, and they camp. So, like, the way to do it would be to drive. Maybe you could just send people to some of the parks within, like, a three-hour radius or something.”

“That’s true. Most people don’t fly to these parks,” Niall says, joining the conversation. “When I was a kid, we used to go to the same state park every summer, and I think we did that because my dad knew it. But if we had videos of other parks, maybe people would visit them.”

“I mean, that’s great for the parks in  _ this _ area, but…” Louis sighs, tapping his fingers on the table. “So like, this is just an idea, but to really cross platforms, like you said, you’d need to hit every state. The way to do that, like Harry suggested, is to drive. Two people—I don’t know, a photographer, maybe, or videographer, and an editor—in a camper, going to one park in each state.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea, Lou,” Harry says.

Zayn taps his pen on the table top, looking from Louis to Harry. He turns to Liam and Bebe, and says, “Need to give it an interesting spin. Like a time limit. ‘Fifty State Parks in One Hundred Days’ or something like that.”

“Nice,” Liam says, and Bebe nods.

“Exactly what we’re talking about,” Bebe says, pointing to Zayn. “Okay. Moving on. Website articles?”

Louis drops his hands to his lap, lacing his fingers together. He doesn’t really pay attention to the rest of the meeting, already annoyed that Bebe seems to be giving Zayn credit for the idea. Assistant book editors never have any fun. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣ 

On their lunch break, Louis and Harry walk to the cafe around the corner on M Street. The coffee’s good, and Harry likes their tuna salad. Though he hates when Louis calls it that. 

“It’s grilled tuna  _ on _ a salad, Lou,” Harry says for the millionth time, following him to a table. “Tuna salad is something completely different.”

“I know, Harold,” Louis says, taking their usual spot by the window. “I just like to fuck with you.”

“Mean.”

“Sure,” Louis says, taking a bite of his roast beef sandwich. He swallows, then, because he loves the pain, he asks, “How’s Bryan?” 

“Oh, um… He’s good,” Harry says, spearing a cherry tomato with his fork. “We’re talking about moving in together.”

Louis doesn’t choke on his sandwich. “Really?” 

“Yeah, my lease is up in October, and Gemma and I have lived together for years. It’s kind of… I don’t know. Her boyfriend is probably going to propose soon.” Though his explanation leaves much to be desired, Harry asks, “What about you? How’s, um… Chad?”

“Ehh… He’s okay. We’re not as serious as you and Bryan,” Louis says with a laugh. Somehow he found himself in a relationship with the guy he hooked up with through Grindr. He’s still not sure how it happened, but they’re approaching the six month mark. Maybe he should break things off before they accidentally move in together like Harry seems about to do with Bryan. He shakes his head and offers, “Niall and I could use a third roommate.”

“In that weird walled-in porch with the French doors?” Harry asks, wrinkling his nose. “Smells funny in there.”

“Probably because we’ve never cleaned it. It’s like a storage room,” Louis says. “Think some of that stuff was there when I moved in.”

Harry's mouth twists into a grimace. “That’s disgusting. And I mean, I don’t  _ not _ want to move in with Bryan.”

“I completely and totally, one hundred percent believe you,” Louis lies, and changes the subject. “So… What’d you think of that meeting?”

“Weird,” Harry says shortly, picking at his food. “Never had a meeting with the editor-in-chief. She seems alright, I guess.”

“Think they’ll use our ideas?” Louis asks, pushing his plate closer to Harry so he can take a chip. 

“I don’t know. Like… I think it’d be a cool series for the YouTube channel, though it’d probably have to have it’s own channel within the channel, really,” Harry says, rambling the way he tends to do. He takes a small handful of chips, popping one into his mouth. “The parks would probably waive the fees, so that would cut the cost a bit. But I don’t think Zayn’s spin would work. Fifty parks in a hundred days is impossible for two people when you count drive time. Even if you didn’t count travel time to Hawaii. And like, how could you pick just one park in Hawaii?”

“I like how Hawaii is your sticking point,” Louis says, rolling his eyes. “They’re not flying anyone to Hawaii for YouTube content.”

“True,” Harry agrees. “But for the rest… It’d be a fun trip. No doubt. I hope we get  _ some  _ credit if they do it.”

That night, Louis attempts to clean up the weird, walled-in storage-porch. He finds some  _ things  _ that shall remain nameless that may have been causing the smell. Niall suggests bleach. Louis suggests that Niall check to see if there’s any leftover from when he used to frost his tips. 

They don’t really talk about work, as is their habit, though Niall does commend Louis’ idea. Louis makes sure to tell him it was more Harry’s idea, and that he hopes, if one of them gets credit, that person is Harry. Niall rolls his eyes and says he already mentioned it to Zayn. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

On Friday, just when Louis is at the point where he wishes the clock would move faster, Zayn appears by his desk.

“Hey, man,” Zayn says, using Louis’ desk to help straighten the stack of blue folders in his hands. “Got a minute?”

“Sure,” Louis says, closing his laptop. “What’s up?”

“Where’s Harry?”

“Uhh…” Louis looks at the empty chair behind the desk that butts up to the back of his, then at Harry walking up behind Zayn. “Harry, are you invisible today?”

“No, Lou, I went to fill our water bottles,” Harry says, dropping into his seat, and passing Louis’ water to him. 

“Found him!” Louis points to Harry and grins at Zayn. “So, what’s up?”

“Okay, well, first off, Bebe and Liam loved your ideas,” Zayn says, squatting down beside their desks. “We had a little meeting Wednesday about it. Talked with some of the senior editors and photographers we thought would be up for it, ’cause it honestly sounds like a hard trip.”

“Yeah, a hundred days to get to fifty parks?” Louis shakes his head. “Impossible.”

“Right, well, we threw out Hawaii and Alaska, but still. Forty-eight states in a hundred days is probably doable, but the budget would be pretty low,” Zayn says, flipping through the top blue folder of his stack. “It’s not like we’d have a star to draw views. Biggest cost would be a camper, and we’d have to go really small. Like, a pop-up or a truck camper, probably, because some of the parks have length limits for their campsites. A few only allow tent camping. None of the Rhode Island parks in the book allow camping at all, so that one would be a day trip kind of thing, I guess. Maybe on the way to another park.”

“Sounds comfy,” Harry says, sipping his water, and raising his eyebrows. 

“Exactly. While most of the people we asked are fine with camping, even tent camping, no one wants to do it for three months straight,” Zayn says with a quiet laugh. “Which brings me to my actual point.”

“Oh, you have one of those?” Louis asks, winking at Harry, who sputters into his water bottle. One of these days, Louis is going to get fired for trying to make Harry laugh.

Zayn nods, and hands Louis a blue folder. “We wanted to see if you two would be up to the task.”

“What?” Louis asks, but is immediately distracted by Harry actually choking on his water. 

When Harry finally finishes coughing, Zayn says, “Take the weekend and think it over.”

“Okay,” Harry says, looking at Louis wide-eyed. “Lou?”

“Yeah. Yeah. We’ll let you know Monday,” Louis says, and Zayn stands from his crouch, picking up the rest of his blue folders. “Wait. When would the trip be?”

“We’re thinking June, July, and August,” Zayn says, “Make it a real summer vacation thing. Show the families what the parks are like. Maybe attendance will go up. Maybe we’ll sell more books. Win-win.”

“Win-win,” Louis says, and as soon as Zayn walks away, he whispers across his desk to Harry, “Drinks after work?”

“Good idea,” Harry says, reaching for his phone. “I’ll have to cancel on Bryan.”

“You don't have to cancel your date, Harold,” Louis says, opening his laptop again. “We can meet up tomorrow or Sunday.”

“No, I want to go for drinks. I didn’t really want to go to the movies anyway,” Harry says, waving his hand at Louis and not looking up from his phone. “Superman, Spider-Man, they’re all the same.”

“Oh my god, Harold,” Louis says, leaning down to rest his head on his desk. “I’m glad Zayn didn’t hear you say that.”

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

After work, they walk to one of the ridiculously expensive bars near the museum. Louis has only ever been to people-watch and sip a single overpriced beer. This time they’re early enough to beat the crowd of wannabe politicians, and grab a tiny, round table near the door. While Harry orders their drinks, Louis looks over the folder that Zayn gave him. Inside is a list of items suggested by some of the more experienced explorers, as well as the budget and size requirements for the camper, laminated road maps of the entire United States, and of each state by itself. 

“So what do you think?” Harry asks, sitting down and sliding Louis’ beer across the table. 

“I don’t know, Harold. What do you think?” Louis asks, passing him the folder. 

Harry studies the list for a moment. “I think it sounds like a great opportunity, and the extra pay is nice, but I don’t know… It depends on how much freedom we’d have, like, to choose where we go and what we do and when.”

“Well, those could be conditions,” Louis says, sipping his beer while he thinks it over. “Like, we’d only do the trip if they let us, um… pick the parks, plan the route, stuff like that.”

“Yeah, okay,” Harry says, frowning into his drink. “You don’t think we’ll drive each other crazy? Three-plus months together confined to a tiny camper?”

It might drive him crazy, living with Harry like that, though not for the reasons Harry’s probably thinking. Three months of spending all of his time with the super hot, incredibly sweet, and totally out of reach guy he’s had a crush on since the day they started working together might push him over the edge. 

Louis laughs, and says, “Maybe that’s part of the fun. Might make for more views on our videos. ‘Watch Harry Styles Slowly Go Insane’ has a nice ring to it, I think.”

“As long as the camper doesn’t wind up stinking like that room in your apartment, I think our friendship will survive,” Harry says, running his finger over the list. “I’m glad someone with experience made this list. I wouldn’t have thought about half of this stuff.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have thought about pots and pans and shit,” Louis says, reaching over and tapping that part of the list. “And a food budget. We’d have to figure out a way to split up the cooking, I guess.”

“I like cooking,” Harry says. “I’ll cook if you’ll clean up after.”

“That’s a fair deal.”

“We should figure out a camper first. Then maybe go through and pick the parks we want to visit.”

“I have an idea,” Louis says, fishing a copy of their new state parks guide out of his backpack. “Let’s flag the parks that fit our criteria, and the ones we like most, and tomorrow we can call around to see which ones will let us reserve campsites. That’ll help determine our route.”

It’s easy to eliminate the parks that don’t allow camping, and there are a few parks that stand out in Louis’ mind from when they were editing the book. One in Florida that’s home to a coral reef, one in New York that offers hot air balloon rides, and the one he mentioned during the meeting with wild horses that roam the beach. 

“We should decide on a camper, Lou.” Harry says, swirling the last bit of tequila around his glass, and holding his phone up so that Louis can see the screen. He’s only had one drink, but Louis is on his fourth beer. “Look! There’s a little form. You fill it out and it tells you what campers fit your requirements.”

“Requirements,” Louis says, squinting at the screen. “Okay. Truck camper.”

Harry taps the screen. “What size truck bed? I think they shouldn’t make us take a tiny truck. I’m picking a big one. Do you like Toyota?”

“I have no Toyota opinions,” Louis says, thinking about it. “I do like that it sounds like Toy Yoda.”

“Okay, so…”

They go through the form, choosing between things like ‘hard side’ or ‘pop-up’ which neither of them really understand, so they have to research before they answer. The weirdest part of the conversation is about the bathroom. 

“I love you, Lou,” Harry says, making Louis’ stomach flip. “But I don’t want to deal with a camper toilet and everything involved with keeping it running. That sounds hard and also gross.”

“Agreed. No toilet.”

“And no shower, either. I mean, we could, but some of these parks don’t have hookups for water or electricity, so we’d be using the park showers anyway,” Harry says, checking back and forth from his phone to the book. “We’ll have a sink for like, brushing teeth, washing hands and faces, and doing dishes, but that’s just a little grey water tank. Not as big a deal to take care of as a black water tank.” 

“What about A/C?” Louis asks, leaning forward and grabbing the book. He flips it open to Nevada, where they’re likely to wind up staying in the Valley of Fire. “We need air conditioning.”

“A man after my own heart,” Harry says, and Louis starts rethinking his decision to go on this trip at all. His poor heart might explode from Harry’s offhand comments alone. “Okay, so A/C, but can we not use it all the time? Like, we can agree on a temperature limit or something.”

“Works for me,” Louis says, sliding the book into his backpack. “What are we left with?”

They end the night with the campers narrowed down to three, more than a hundred parks on their list, and plans to hang out at Louis’ place around lunchtime so they can lay the maps out and figure out the best and most efficient way to hit all forty-eight states.

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

“I can’t believe you’re signing on for this,” Niall says while he watches Louis scramble to clean their apartment before Harry arrives. “There’s no way it’ll end well.”

“I know that, Niall!” Louis shouts, throwing what may or may not be part of an old banana peel at him. “He hasn’t picked up on my stupid crush yet, but I’m sure he’ll figure it out while we’re on the road. We’re going to be sleeping together.”

“You’re not,” Niall says, scoffing and shaking his head. “You’re both dating other people.”

“No, I mean,  _ sleeping.  _ We’re going to be sleeping, like, right next to each other. I’ve seen your bare ass more times than I care to count, and we have our own bedrooms.” Covering his eyes with his hands as if it will stop the images of Niall’s naked ass dancing in the kitchen, Louis says, “We’ll be together twenty-four-seven. I’m going to see his dick, and not in a dick-appropriate way.”

“Close your eyes,” Niall says unhelpfully.

Louis drops down onto the couch beside him, looking over at the open storage room that once was a porch, possibly. The two French doors are nice enough now that he’s Windexed them, but the room is still pretty cluttered. At least it doesn’t smell anymore. 

“This is such a great opportunity,” Louis says, letting his head fall back and staring at the ceiling. “What if we do well? What if Liam and Bebe like it? They could offer me and Harry promotions or, like, anything, I guess.”

“The world is your oyster,” Niall says, even though Louis knows Niall thinks oysters are slimy and gross. 

“What can I do?”

After a moment, during which Louis wonders if Niall thinks he’s asked a rhetorical question, and isn’t actually looking for a solution, Niall says, “Okay, this is what you do: ask for exactly what you want when you talk to Zayn. Don’t budge on anything important. And don’t fuck Harry.”

“Crude,” Louis says, not bothering to explain that it’s not sex he’s worried about. He’s been enamored with Harry since the first time he guffawed at one of his own jokes and spit water across both of their desks. And he’s seen Harry ham it up for the camera before; he’s sure to be a whole new level of charming on video. There’s no way he’ll make it three months without winding up completely in love with him. Louis sighs and pushes himself off the couch. He needs to shower before Harry shows up.

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

“Hey,” Harry says when Louis opens the door. “Is Niall around?”

“Yeah,” Louis says, stepping aside to let him in. “In the kitchen. Why? You want me to kick him out? ’Cause I will.”

Harry shakes his head. “I told Bryan about the trip, and he’s pissed because we’re supposed to be getting a place together this summer. Since I won't be here if we go on the trip, he’s thinking about renewing his lease, which means I’d have to find another place to live. Probably.”

“Oh… You can be our third roommate,” Louis says, pointing to the somewhat clean room. “Did you want to ask Niall, is that why—”

“You cleaned it!” Harry strides across the living room and pokes his head into the enclosed porch. “It doesn’t smell as bad.”

“I won’t tell you what I found in there,” Louis says, leading Harry over to the kitchen table. “Ni, Harry might move in.”

Niall chokes on his Gatorade, and turns to spit in the sink. “What?”

“I don’t have to!” Harry rushes out. “Lou said—”

“Long story, but he might need a place to stay when we get back—if we do the trip,” Louis explains. “I offered him that room.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Niall says, wiping the splattered Gatorade off the counter. “I thought you meant, like, you were moving in together. And I was like, well, that was fast. ’Cause you both have boyfriends, and you’re not dating each other, so—”

“We can’t date, Niall,” Harry says, rolling his eyes. “We work together. It’s like, company policy.”

“Is it?” Louis asks, as if he hasn’t read that particular bit of the employee handbook before. 

“Sure is!” Niall says, grinning maniacally as he heads for the door. “I’m going for a bike ride. Be back never.” 

Louis scowls at his back as he picks up his bike and leaves. “Right. Let’s get started.”

The first thing they do is split the list of parks in half, and start calling to find out which ones are willing to reserve campsites for Tellurian International. Surprisingly, every single one is on board. Or maybe it’s not so surprising, it’s free advertising after all. Most of them also offer to waive the fees as well, including the cost of some of the activities within the parks. Once they’ve done that, they lay all of the maps out on the floor, and use dry erase markers to draw stars on all of their preferred parks. It makes it easier to see what their route might look like. 

Hours later, they have forty-eight parks, a route, and a plan. Some of the parks have specific activities that they both definitely want to do, but some are more general things like hiking and kayaking, and they’d rather figure those out as they go. They’ll spend two nights at each park, except the one in Rhode Island, since it doesn’t allow camping. On the third day, they’ll drive to the next park.

“We could really do this in a hundred days,” Louis says, double checking his calculations. 

“Yeah, maybe, but like…” Harry points to the west coast on the map and says, “That’s a ten hour drive and then like, a day and a half later, a fifteen hour drive. We’ve got a few really long travel days.”

“What are you thinking?”

“We should split them,” Harry says, leaning over and drawing a short line through the middle of the route from the park in the Oklahoma panhandle to the park in South Texas. “Find a Walmart. They’ll let you park a camper in their lot overnight.”

“How do you know that?” Louis asks.

“My grandparents used to travel in an RV,” Harry says with a shrug. “Theirs had a generator and a shower and toilet, so… much nicer than the ones we’re looking at, but they stayed at Walmarts all the time.”

“Weird.”

“It is, isn’t it? Never really thought about it before,” Harry says, reaching for Louis’ open laptop.

“You think they’ll sponsor our trip?” Louis asks.

“No, I don’t think Tellurian International would really like us staying there, but unless they want us to hit multiple parks in the bigger states… or they could pay for us to stay at a hotel or something.”

“We’ll see what Liam says.”

“Yeah,” Harry says, humming and tracing over the route to the park in Florida. “I’ve always wanted to go snorkeling on a reef.”

“Well, hopefully they’ll be okay with what we want, and we’ll be there in August,” Louis says.

“Hopefully,” Harry says. “Hey, um… Did you tell Chad about the trip?”

“Not yet,” Louis says, though he probably should text him. Maybe they can meet up tonight and Louis can try to fuck Harry out of his system. Not that it’s worked so far, but a man has needs. “Why?”

“Just wondering.” Lifting his arms overhead, Harry tips his head back, lacing his hands together, and stretching side to side. 

Hypnotized by Harry's movements, and the way the waistband of his corduroy pants cuts into the softness of his hips, Louis struggles to find words. Finally, he jumps to his feet, fumbling with his phone. “Chad! Oh, wow. I’m late.”

“You are?” Harry frowns, but when Louis nods, he starts collecting the maps, crawling around on his hands and knees, shirt riding up to reveal the curve of his lower back when he reaches to grab them. 

“I’ll take care of that,” Louis says, hurrying to pick everything up. “You should go. I’ve got to meet Chad.”

“Oh, um…” Harry gets to his feet, and says, “I thought we were hanging out—”

“Yeah, sorry about that. Totally forgot about Chad,” Louis says, which isn’t a lie. 

“Okay,” Harry says, and Louis ushers him towards the door. He turns and grins. “See you Monday.”

“See you,” Louis says, and shuts the door. Struck by sudden inspiration, he adds a requirement to the bottom of their list that’s sure to ruin any chance that their planned trip will be approved. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

Monday morning on the way to work, when Louis stops to get his coffee, he picks one up for Harry, too, to soften the blow when they don’t get the assignment. After dropping their folder off with Zayn, Louis gives Harry his "good luck" coffee, and Harry smiles while he sips it. It doesn't make Louis feel any better for sabotaging their chances by demanding an extra two weeks paid vacation upon their return. A few hours later, he’s on the verge of coming clean when he sees Zayn approaching with what looks like their blue folder. 

“Here he comes,” Louis whispers, and Harry spins around in his chair. 

“Good news? Bad news?” Harry asks, bouncing in his seat. 

Zayn laughs. “Depends what you think.”

“Come on, man,” Louis says, tapping his fingers on his knee. “Get it over with.”

“Right, Sorry.” Frowning, Zayn opens the folder. “Well, you’re right. A hundred days isn’t possible, at least not for a safe trip, in our collective opinion. The absolute minimum would be one hundred-two.”

Louis hums, gritting his teeth. When Zayn doesn’t say anything else right away, Louis asks, “Anything else?”

“We think a hundred fifteen days is fair. Gives you extra time between some of the parks that are more spread out,” Zayn says, then lowers his voice and adds, “If you budget your days, you might even have a few extra days at the end to do whatever you please.”

“You’re letting us go?” Harry asks, sitting up straight, eyes wide, both dimples deep in his cheeks. 

“Sounds like it,” Zayn says. 

Louis closes his eyes. “One fifteen gives us almost two extra weeks.”

Zayn nods and says, “Niall’s idea. Said you’d need contingency days.”

“Did he?” Harry asks, reaching across their desks to poke the back of Louis’ hand. “We owe him, big time.”

“Big time,” Louis says, pressing his lips together. “When do we leave?”

“Monday, May twenty-fifth,” Zayn says, closing the folder and handing it to Louis. “Gives Liam enough time to get the custom camper made.”

“Which camper did you guys choose?” Harry asks, and Louis knows he’s thinking about the one with a six month wait that has the pop-up tent on top. 

“You’ll see,” Zayn says with a smile that makes Louis want to kick his ankle. “In the meantime, you guys have a little more than three weeks to get ready for the trip. We’ll need some measurements and info from both of you—some of the gear is coming from sponsors, but not everything is one-size-fits-all.”

Harry raises his hand like they’re in class and Zayn’s their teacher. “What should we pack? Like, of our own stuff?”

“Clothes, mostly,” Zayn says, pointing to the folder. “But it’s all in there.”

“Thanks,” Harry says, reaching for the folder.

Louis hands it over, and mutters, “Yeah, thanks.”

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

Over the next three weeks, they meet with Niall and the rest of the team to go over the equipment they’ll be using and the procedure for sending back their footage. Gear arrives at the office, and soon the lesser used conference room turns into a staging area, where they lay everything out on the floor to try to figure out where it’ll go in the camper and truck. The room slowly fills with mountain bikes and tents and paddles and helmets and even a tandem kayak. They’re given official Tellurian International Foundation backpacks and duffle bags, towels, hats, water bottles, and so many items embroidered with the official globe logo and black lettering that it starts to look like they won some sort of prize drawing. Tellurian International merchandise for life. 

“There are t-shirts and hoodies and shorts in here,” Louis says, pulling another shirt out and tossing it on the table. “Tank tops.”

“Zayn said we’d need to pack our own clothes, but this is like… an entire wardrobe,” Harry says, folding a hoodie. “Do you think it’ll be cold in like, Maine? Will we need hoodies?”

“Maybe at night,” Louis says, pulling out his phone to quickly check the average temperature for late May. “Since the camper likely won’t have a heater, we’ll probably need them.”

“These water bottles are really nice,” Harry says, opening one and peering inside. “I’m going to have to repack now that we have the official bags. Do you think we’ll be able to do laundry?”

“We’ll have to at some point. Another thing to add to the list of things to check,” Louis says, picking up the black swim trunks. “At least the logo’s not on the ass.”

Harry snorts, rifling through one of the bags. “There’s even dish soap and sponges.”

“I just realized that we need to know what kind of truck and camper we’re taking to figure out where to put everything,” Louis says, spreading his arms wide. “We’ve only got a few days left, and if they wait until the last minute, it’ll eat into our time.”

“Yeah, it could take an entire day just to get everything packed up and organized,” Harry says, walking over to the mountain bikes against the wall. “You think there’ll be a roof rack?”

“Let’s find out,” Louis says, heading for the hallway. It’s understandable that they want to keep the camper a surprise; for all he knows, they’re planning a big, on-camera reveal where Liam will pull a giant tarp off of it and he and Harry will be expected to ooh and ahh, but they can fake that. Liam’s office door is open, so Louis knocks on the doorjamb, and Liam looks up. “Hey, we need some info on the camper and truck for packing and storage.”

“Zayn didn’t tell you?” Liam asks.

“Nope,” Louis says, glancing at Harry who shakes his head. “Tell us what?”

“It’s here! The camper was delivered this morning,” Liam says, opening a drawer and pulling out a set of keys attached to an official Tellurian International carabiner keychain. “It’s downstairs. Wait here. I’ll go pull it around to the loop, then come down when I text you.”

“Are you going to record us?” Harry asks, pinching his lower lip. 

“Yeah, is that okay?” Liam asks, stopping in the doorway.

“It’s fine. Just wondering if we should be dressed in head to toe merch,” Harry says, laughing before he finishes talking.

“I think you’ll be fine in what you have on,” Liam says, jingling the keys. “No peeking!”

While they wait, they go back to the conference room, and start sorting things into piles. Some of the stuff will have to go home with them so they can properly pack, but some of the stuff will need to be loaded into the truck and camper as soon as possible. When Liam finally texts them, they have two large boxes of stuff ready to pack into the camper: everything from towels to the satellite phone to dish soap to the collection of maps they used to plan the route. 

They walk through the revolving door, and Louis almost drops his box. He should’ve known when they looked at the options for each camper, which one Liam would choose. It’s obvious now that it’s parked right there in the center of the curve of the U-shaped drive in front of the building. 

Of course Liam expects them to drive a bright blue and green striped camper all over the country. There’s also a picture of the globe, in case the words ‘Tellurian International’ in big, black letters aren’t enough to tip people off. The truck is blue, and they’ve stuck the logo on that as well, though it’s smaller and less noticeable. 

As they approach, Liam appears around the back of the camper, phone in hand, clearly recording their reactions. 

“It’s perfect!” Harry says, hurrying over and setting his box down on the curb. “Can we go inside?”

Liam nods, and Louis puts his box beside Harry's, following him to the camper door. Before Harry opens the door, Louis asks, “Think it’s blue and green on the inside too?”

It’s not. The wood paneling is yellow toned, and the cushions on the dinette benches are beige. Speckled brown and off-white Formica covers the counters and the small table. 

“Look, Lou,” Harry says, patting one of the empty shelves near the door. “I think we’ll have plenty of room. Especially if we do like that truck camping blog suggested and keep our clothes in the duffles. We can just throw them onto the bed when we need the table and vice versa.”

“Yeah, I think it’ll work.” Reaching up to touch the ceiling, Louis says, “It feels bigger than I expected.”

“It does. It’s weird that all of this is in the bed of a truck,” Harry says, slipping past him to stand in front of the kitchen area. 

“So, are we alternating nights in the big bed or do you want to switch off at each camp?” Louis asks, sitting on the cushioned dinette seat that converts into the second bed. 

“Either way,” Harry says, then he climbs up on all fours onto the bed at the back of the camper, and bounces on the cushion, bum in the air. 

Closing his eyes, Louis says, “We’ll switch at the parks then. Seems easier.”

“Okay,” Harry agrees, and when Louis opens his eyes, it’s to see Harry flopping over onto his back, legs dangling off the bed. “Are you excited?”

“Yeah, sure,” Louis says. And he actually is, even though this trip will possibly be the death of him. 

“You seem kind of distracted,” Harry says, hopping down and making the camper sway. “Is it Chad?”

“What?” Louis shakes his head quickly. “No. We broke up, like, last week.”

“Oh, no, Lou. I’m sorry,” Harry says, pouting and holding his arms out as he crosses the few feet between them and wraps Louis up in a hug. “What happened? Or don’t tell me. Unless you want to.”

“It’s fine,” Louis says, giving Harry a quick squeeze and taking a step back. He bumps into the wall dividing the storage area from the rest of the camper, and reaches up to rub the back of his head. “I told him about the trip, and he didn’t like the idea of me going away for three months. So we broke up.”

Actually, Louis ended things. When Chad told him that they should’ve discussed things and made the decision about whether or not to go on the trip together, Louis was surprised. They’ve been seeing each other for about half a year, but only once or twice a week. Louis didn’t realize they were in a relationship until about three months in when Chad called him his boyfriend in public and he didn’t have the heart to disagree. The tipping point though, was Chad accusing Harry of arranging the trip in an effort to break them up. Maybe he should have a more thorough vetting process for the next person he sleeps with who accidentally becomes his boyfriend. 

“Better this way,” Louis says, bending over to open each of the lower kitchen cabinets in turn. “I’d rather be single.” 

“Oh,” Harry says, bending over beside him to open the cabinets under the dinette seats. “Well, Bryan’s not thrilled, like I said, but I think it’ll all work out.”

“Hope so,” Louis says, though part of him doesn’t. If only he and Harry could both be perpetually single, but flirt with each other, hang out, live and work together. Maybe they could occasionally fuck and even sleep together afterwards. A utopia. Though, if he’s wishing, he’d just wish Tellurian International didn’t have company policy against interoffice relationships. 

Liam films them coming down the little steps of the camper, and says, “Guys, why don’t you introduce yourselves, and talk a little about the camper and the trip. Niall can edit me out of it, put it all together for an intro video.”

“Okay,” Louis says, shutting the camper door. “And we can talk a bit more on the day we leave, like, show the camper all packed with the bikes and kayak on top.”

“Good, good.” Liam nods, and points to Harry, who elbows Louis, who looks at him askance.

“What?”

Harry shrugs and says quietly, “You go first.”

“Oh, I’m the spokesperson, am I?” Louis asks, and Harry nods. “Fine. Okay, here goes.”

“Thanks,” Harry whispers.

“Harold, if you want me to talk, let me talk.” Shaking his head, Louis turns to face Liam, rubbing his hands together as he tries to figure out what to say. He lifts one hand and waves like he does when he talks to his littlest siblings on Skype. “Hi, I’m Louis Tomlinson, and this is Harry Styles. We both work for Tellurian International’s book division, and we’ve just finished the new edition of the _ State Parks of the United States Guide. _ Harry here’s going to tell you about this blue and green monstrosity you see behind us.”

“Oh, um…” Harry clears his throat, waving at Liam’s phone, then holds his hands behind his back, and says, “This is a camper. But not just any camper. It’s a truck camper that we’re about to take to one state park in each of the contiguous states.”

“Nice word,” Louis says.

“Thanks, Lou,” Harry says, leaning sideways until their upper arms are pressed together. “It means sharing a common border, or touching. So, technically, we are contiguous right now.”

“Very good, Harold,” Louis says, turning slightly towards him. “And yes, we’re taking this bright blue and green camper to forty-eight state parks this summer. We’ll be recording our hikes and various adventures for everyone to see, and they’ll all be a part of our new YouTube series called  _ Have Road, Will Travel. _ We’re hoping our videos will encourage you out there to visit some of these magnificent parks.”

“Magnificent,” Harry says.

“Well, they are. We’re going to see wild horses! Ride in a hot air balloon!”

Harry claps his hands and says, “We’re going clamming!”

“We are?” Louis asks, forgetting that they’re recording.

“Yeah, didn’t you see? I wrote it down. In Maine. It’s like, one of the first parks we’ll hit.”

“No, must’ve missed it.” Louis props his hands on his hips, turning to face Harry completely. “Do we need like, special wetsuits or anything?”

“Don’t think so, but… shit. Let me check the water temps…”

“Guys, I think we’re good for now,” Liam says, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “If you want to load up some of the gear that’ll go inside the camper, go for it. And you might want to put the bikes and kayaks on the roof and take them off again, just to see how it works.”

“Great, yeah. We should do that,” Harry says, holding his hand out and wiggling his fingers. “Keys, please.”

Liam drops the keys into Harry’s palm, and leaves them to it. They unload the boxes they brought down, deciding where they’ll keep the tents and cooking implements before going back upstairs. It takes the rest of the day to haul everything down to the camper and get it put away properly, so it’s a good thing they decided to get that done before the trip. There are still a lot of things that don’t get packed into the camper or the truck that they’ll have to load up that morning before they leave. 

The bikes and kayak are a pain in the ass to load and unload from the rack, like Louis expected, mainly because the camper is actually pretty tall. But by standing on the rear tires, they’re able to get to them, and it should be easier the more they do it. When they finish, they take the bikes and kayak back upstairs, and stop by Liam’s office.

“We’re done,” Louis says, dropping the keys on Liam’s desk. 

He looks up, chewing his lip and scratching his chin. “I was thinking, we should park it in the big bay in the back of the museum. That way, it’s inside, and you can go ahead and get everything loaded up. When it’s time to leave on Monday, you’ll be set.”

“Now you tell us,” Harry says, and Louis knows he’s thinking about getting the bikes onto the roof rack again. 

They spend the rest of the day packing up the camper, and decide to come in on Sunday to finish up. Then they can throw their clothes in too, and the only things they’ll have to bring with them Monday morning are their phones and laptops. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fic post](https://kingsofeverything.tumblr.com/post/630877050004209664/by-kingsofeverything-with-fantastic-art-by)


	2. Chapter 2

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

“Can we go to McDonald’s and get an Egg McMuffin?” Louis asks, leaning his seat back and propping his feet on the dash. 

“We have to stop for groceries,” Harry says, swatting Louis' leg. “It’s dangerous to have your feet up there.”

“Don’t wreck and I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Louis says. He yawns and closes his eyes and wakes up two hours later in the parking lot of a Food Lion grocery store.

“Come on,” Harry says, cutting the engine. “I brought my shopping bags from home.”

Harry’s a surprisingly efficient grocery shopper. At some point after they made their list, he organized it by section of the store, and they’re able to go aisle by aisle, filling up their cart. They limit the items that have to be kept cold because the fridge is small and runs on the truck’s battery. Since this is their first time shopping, it’s a big list. Hopefully some of the staples won’t have to be replenished for a while. 

Neither of them have ever camped long term, so they’re not quite sure how the meals will work out. They’re planning on eggs for breakfasts, sandwiches for lunches, and probably the same thing for dinner at least a few nights in a row. 

Back in the truck, they switch places, and while Louis drives, Harry sets up the camera mount on the dash.

“Is it pointing up my nose?” Louis asks, refusing to look directly at the camera.

“We’ll find out later,” Harry says, unbuckling his seatbelt and sliding over into the middle seat so he’s pressed up against Louis’ side. From the corner of his eye, Louis sees him smile at the camera. “Hello, and welcome to _Have Road, Will Travel._ I’m Harry Styles and…”

Harry elbows him. “Ouch, Harold! I’m Louis Tomlinson.”

Grinning, Harry says, “We’re on our way to Assateague State Park, the Maryland park we’ve chosen to visit. It’s famous for its wild horses, which I’m excited to see, except like,” he turns to Louis, and Louis struggles to keep his eyes on the road. “It was pretty scary in that one video the horse kicked somebody.”

“Harry, are you dumb enough to stand behind a horse and fuck with it?”

“No.”

“Then, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“Probably not,” Harry says, looking back at the camera. “Niall is editing whatever we send in, which is good because I tend to ramble and get sidetracked. But! Not right now. Right now we’re on the Verrazano Bridge, going over the Sinepuxent Bay—hope I said that right—to Assateague Island.”

“You said it right,” Louis assures him, patting Harry's knee and immediately jerking his hand away, gripping the steering wheel. “Sorry.”

“I don’t mind, Lou,” Harry says, squeezing Louis’ thigh. “My boyfriend says I’m like a big, obnoxious dog because I love to be petted and scratched.”

“Oh my god, Harold,” Louis says, shoving his shoulder and pushing him back into the passenger seat. It makes Harry pout, and Louis rolls his eyes, but he reaches out at scratches behind Harry's ear like he would a puppy. 

Leaning into Louis’ hand, Harry opens his mouth and lets his tongue hang out, panting ridiculously. He grins at the camera, and says, “Now just feed me and I’ll follow you home.”

“Good thing you’re doing all the cooking on this trip,” Louis says, hoping his rising blush isn’t noticeable. 

“Oh, we should explain,” Harry says, sitting beside Louis again and buckling his seatbelt as he speaks to the camera. “I like cooking, so I’m going to be in charge of making the meals for the trip. Louis will be doing all of the clean up.”

“I don't _dislike_ cooking,” Louis explains, glancing at the camera. “I just don't know anything about cooking three meals a day for two people living in a camper. The stove is tiny and we don’t even have a microwave.”

Harry scoffs. “We don’t need a microwave.”

“What if I want popcorn?” It’s a valid question, even though he only usually eats popcorn when he’s watching a movie. 

“You don’t need a microwave for popcorn, Lou,” Harry says, shaking his head. “Next time we stock up on groceries, we’ll get some popcorn and I’ll show you.”

“Oh my god, there’s a fucking horse right there,” Louis says, pointing ahead of them where one of the wild ponies is grazing on the side of the road. 

“Look! There’s more!” Harry snatches the camera off the dash, holding it up to record the horses as they slowly drive past. “So many. I mean, I knew they’d be here, but they’re like… everywhere. Look at the poop.”

Louis snorts, looking out the driver’s side window. “Imagine Niall watching this. He might kill us. Poop.”

“It’s all over the place! I think that’s something people should know.” Turning the camera around, Harry furrows his brow, and says, “There are huge piles of horse poop because horses don’t use toilets or litter boxes. They go wherever they happen to be when the urge hits. So, step lively.”

“Step lively,” Louis repeats, pulling into the parking lot where they’ll check in. 

The park reserved them a beachside campsite with electrical hookups. Sand dunes form a barrier between the campsites and the ocean, but there are wooden walkways that cross over to the beach. 

As soon as he pulls the truck into their campsite, Louis turns off the camera, and says, “I need to pee. But I guess we should take a peek at the showers and stuff? Then we can sort of do an official ‘first set up’ video.”

“Sounds good, yeah,” Harry says, climbing out of the truck and stretching. 

The facilities are close to their campsite and they’re much nicer that Louis expected from a state park. He turns on the water in one of the showers and it has great pressure, heating up quicker than his shower at home. A good start, but there’s no way the rest of the parks will measure up. 

They meet back at the truck, and Harry sets up the camera on the picnic table to record them as they attempt to hook up the camper. The line for clean water attaches like a hose, and only takes them a moment to do, but the electrical takes a little longer because they have to figure out the plug. All in all, it’s much easier than Louis thought it’d be, and in a few minutes, they have water and electricity. 

“Look at that,” Harry tells the camera, bending down in front of the picnic table. “Louis invented electricity.”

Rolling his eyes, Louis grabs the camera. “Let’s walk down to the beach and show the people what it looks like.”

“Okay,” Harry says, spinning around and heading for the wooden walkway near their site. “Are you going to walk behind me?”

“Yeah, I’m recording your reaction. Isn't that what we’re supposed to do?”

Harry shrugs, looking back over his shoulder. “We didn’t do it on camera, but we’re both covered head to toe in sunscreen and bug repellent.”

“I’m not,” Louis says. 

“Hush, Lou,” Harry stage whispers. “Niall, cut that part out. We should set a good example. What if children watch this?”

“Their parents should put sunscreen on them,” Louis says. 

“Oh, shut up,” Harry says, turning and walking backwards. “Wear sunscreen and bug repellent because the mosquitoes are out and sunburns hurt.”

“You’re not wearing any either, are you?” Louis asks, laughing when Harry scowls at the camera. 

“Niall, please edit this conversation out.”

“Niall can’t hear you, Harold.”

“Whatever.” Waving a hand at the camera, Harry faces forward again as they reach the top of the ramp. “Oh… It’s beautiful.”

“It’s a beach,” Louis says. 

“With horses!” Harry jogs to the bottom of the ramp, stopping and shading his eyes with his hands as he looks around. “I’m glad we got here early. I’m sure it’ll be busier later.”

“It’s Monday and kids are in school,” Louis says, catching up to him. “Should we film everything? The battery’s not going to last that long.”

“Turn it off, I guess. Until we find something interesting.” Pushing his sunglasses up into his hair, Harry asks, “What do you want to do today?”

“Was going to ask you the same. We got here so early that we’ll have two full days.”

“Walk on the beach, look for some horses” Harry says, starting towards the water. “We can figure out the rest later.”

Since the beach is virtually empty, the horses are easy to find. Just a little way down the beach, they find three ponies who look like they’re out for a morning stroll. Louis films as they get closer, and they stop to watch them. 

“That’s a baby,” Harry says to the camera, pointing at the much smaller one in the middle. “A baby horse!”

“Feels like there might be a word for baby horse,” Louis says. “Of course, I’m no equine expert.”

Harry frowns at him, but he’s not convincingly angry, especially when he says, “Cute.”

“Thanks, Harold,” Louis says, turning the camera towards himself and winking. “I think I’m cute, too.”

“Remember when you said we could subtitle this series ‘Watch Harry Styles Slowly Go Insane’ and I said that we’d be fine and our friendship would withstand three months together in a tiny camper?”

Scratching his chin and pursing his lips, Louis points the camera at Harry. “Sounds vaguely familiar.”

“Today is day one, and I’m already second guessing my decision to come on this trip,” Harry says, raising his eyebrows and staring at the camera. 

Louis turns the camera off and puts it in his pocket. It’s not as if he’s unaware that he can be annoying. “Are you really?”

“No, Lou!” Harry shoves his shoulder, rolling his eyes. “Can’t you tell when I’m joking?”

“Apparently not,” Louis says, combing his fingers through his windblown hair. 

“Well, if I’m ever _really_ mad at you, I think you’ll know.”

“Okay… That doesn’t sound scary at all.”

“No, I’m just… I can’t remember ever being super angry with one of my friends, but like, with boyfriends, I tend to kind of clam up. Like, I’m very stubborn and I know it’s childish, but if it’s hard to get my feelings in order, I’ll just go quiet for a while.”

“You mean you give people the silent treatment,” Louis says, squinting against the sun and wishing he had his sunglasses. 

“Yeah, I guess. But I do at least say something first. Like, I’ll tell Bryan ‘I need some time alone to think, so I’m going to go take a bath, and we can talk after’ or something like that.”

“Oh, that’s not so bad,” Louis says. “Better than storming off and slamming doors.”

“Maybe. That’s what I told him when we argued about this trip.” Harry stops and steps on the back of his sneakers to take them off, picking them up and letting them dangle from his fingers. He sighs, and admits, “I did slam the bathroom door.”

“Feelings are hard,” Louis says, cringing as soon as the words leave his mouth. “I mean—”

“They are,” Harry agrees, knocking their shoulders together. “Worth the trouble, though.”

Not in Louis’ experience, but he’s heard that before. “I’m glad you think Bryan’s worth it.”

“Oh, um… I just meant, like, in general,” Harry explains, spreading his arms wide as if to indicate the entire beach and the horses in front of them. 

They walk for a little while, then turn and head back. Neither of them had breakfast, despite Louis’ request for Egg McMuffins, so Harry gets the opportunity to try out the propane stove in the camper, as well as the cast iron pan he was so excited to find with their gear. While Harry makes sunny side up eggs and pan toasted bread, Louis brews their coffee in the portable pour-over stands. 

“I’ve never done this before,” Louis says, looking at the camera while carefully pouring the hot water over the grounds. “The instructions say ‘slowly in a circular motion.’”

“Don't fuck it up,” Harry says.

“Harry! I’m recording.” Setting the kettle on the stovetop, Louis says, “Niall, edit out Harold’s potty mouth.”

The coffee isn’t horrible. It’s actually pretty good. They finish it, and Louis quickly cleans up their mess—though Harry actually cleans the cast iron pan so that he can show Louis how to do it. In his defense, not using soap or water is counterintuitive. 

With their water bottles filled up, they step outside, applying sunscreen this time before climbing up to get their bikes off the roof rack. They look a bit ridiculous, decked out in their Tellurian International hats and t-shirts, but the sun is bright, and there isn’t a cloud in the sky. Louis definitely doesn’t want to wind up sunburned on the first day. 

It’s an easy bike trail, completely flat, and it runs alongside the road. The only thing they have to worry about are the horses and what they leave behind. Not that Louis expected it to smell good, but it’s pretty gross when the wind blows and, instead of salt air and ocean breeze, he’s hit with the smell of horse shit. 

“Road apples,” Harry says, cackling and swerving his bike around a fresh pile. 

“What?”

“That’s what horse poop is called,” Harry says, standing up on his pedals, leaning forward, and bending down so his head hangs in front of the GoPro mounted on his handlebars. “Road apples. Do not eat.”

Looking over at him, Louis can’t help but laugh. He’s so goofy, there’s no way that anyone watching won’t fall in love with him. Jealousy makes Louis’ stomach swirl, but he pushes it down and says, “If people want to eat horse shit, you’re not going to stop them, Harold.”

“Suppose you’re right,” Harry says. 

From where Louis is positioned, just behind and to the left of Harry, he can watch him without feeling self conscious about it. Only Harry could manage to make a khaki bucket hat look sexy. It accentuates his sharp jawline, and the way his short curls stick out, flipping up around the brim, gives Louis the urge to tug on them. He pedals harder, catching up, and riding slightly ahead so that Harry’s front tire is barely visible in his peripheral vision.

They ride along the bike trail, but it’s rather short, and once they go all the way to the end and back to their campsite, they decide to turn off the camera and continue onto the national park bike path. They don’t talk much, occasionally commenting on the horses and the birds in the marsh areas. The trail loops around and they follow it back to their camper. Lunch is simple: turkey sandwiches, apples, and carrots. Louis laughs about the apples and carrots, accusing Harry of trying to lure horses into their camper, but then Harry says ‘road apples’ and Louis loses it. 

“Oh, shit,” Louis says, lying on his back on the dinette bench. “My stomach hurts from laughing.”

“Ab workout,” Harry says from the floor, where he wound up, after slapping his knees and wheezing so hard that Louis thought he was actually choking on his sandwich. He wasn’t, but it set them both off, giggling again until they couldn’t breathe. “Do you want to get up early and watch the sunrise over the ocean?”

Louis sits up enough that he can see Harry’s face, and leans over. “How early?”

“Five-ish,” Harry says, holding up his hand as if Louis needs to count his fingers. 

Groaning wretchedly for maximum effect, Louis rolls onto his side. “I’m going back to sleep right after.”

“Okay,” Harry says, smiling up at him. “We’re kayaking tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, I figured we’d do that pretty much the whole day,” Louis says, unable to stop himself from poking Harry’s left dimple. “Sorry.”

“I don’t mind, Lou,” Harry says, reaching up and tapping the tip of Louis’ nose. “Boop.”

“You want to do anything else today?”

Humming, Harry drums his fingers on his chest. “Swim? It’s not, like, boiling out, but I’m all sweaty, and the windows only do so much.”

“It was your idea not to run the A/C.”

“I know, and I don’t want to turn it on, I’m just saying, I—”

“Just giving you a hard time,” Louis says, sitting up. “It’ll be cooler tonight anyway. But yeah, let’s go swimming.”

Harry clambers up off the floor, and before Louis can look away, he strips out of his sweaty t-shirt. While Louis is still adjusting to seeing Harry’s bare chest for the first time, he pushes his pants down, and Louis is faced with Harry wearing nothing but a tight pair of black briefs that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. At eye level. 

“Oh, sorry,” Harry says, bending down to pick up his shorts. “I’ll, um…”

“It’s fine, Harold,” Louis says, getting his duffle bag off of the bed to look for their swimsuits. One bag for clean clothes, one bag for dirty. That seemed like the best way to keep their laundry sorted, but now all Louis can think about is Harry’s sweaty briefs keeping his own underwear company. It’s a bizarre train of thought that Louis can’t stop. As soon as he finds the suits, he throws one at Harry, and pretends to keep searching for another one while Harry changes. 

Instead of leaving the camper and letting Louis change into his suit alone, Harry squirts sunscreen into his hand and starts rubbing it on his shoulders. Facing the back of the camper, Louis takes a deep breath, tugs his shirt over his head, pushes his shorts and underwear down in one go, and steps into his official Tellurian International swimsuit. 

Fully covered and flushing hot, Louis turns around, and Harry asks, “Can you do my back?”

Day one. Louis applies sunscreen to Harry’s back in what he hopes is the least salacious manner, and when he finishes, Harry offers to return the favor. It’s horrible. The worst experience of Louis’ life so far. It lasts eighty-four seconds—Louis counts—and when Harry’s done, Louis snatches the sunscreen bottle and hurries outside. 

He’s still rubbing it on his face when Harry comes outside carrying two towels, two camp chairs, and two water bottles. “Ready?”

“Yep. Ready,” Louis says, taking one of everything out of Harry’s hands and striding off towards the dunes. 

A moment later, Harry catches up to him, keys in hand. “Almost forgot to lock up. And like, our bikes are just sitting there, but they’ll probably be okay. There’s no one around.”

“Yeah, sorry. Wasn’t thinking,” Louis says, glancing over at Harry and regretting it. “Is that a third nipple?”

Turning so he’s skipping sideways through the sand, Harry touches his nipples, and says, “One, two, three, four.”

“Lucky you,” Louis says, hoping the water is cool. Or cold. Frigid would be good. Four nipples. Jesus fucking Christ.

The ocean is cool enough to be a distraction, and Louis ducks beneath the waves, swimming out past the breakers where he stands, hands laced together on top of his head, watching the horizon, listening to Harry wade through the water towards him.

“I think the sun comes up over there,” Harry says, pointing a little to the left on the horizon. 

“So, in the east, then,” Louis says, biting his lip to hide his smile.

“Apparently it does that every morning,” Harry says, sputtering when Louis splashes him right in the face. 

They swim and float and body surf until something touches Louis’ foot and he gets full body chills, unable to shake the thought that sharks _and_ jellyfish are circling them. They stay in their swimsuits for the rest of the day, and while Harry cooks dinner, Louis takes a shower. Dinner is pasta with Italian sausage because Harry says they can reheat it over the next few nights. Louis asks him how they’re going to do that without a microwave, but Harry just laughs and tells him to get to cleaning while he uploads the day’s videos. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣ 

As soon as they finish, Harry heads for the shower. It’s an adjustment, using what is basically a public toilet all the time, but Louis is thankful because it gives him some time to be alone. He sets up his bed, folding the table down and sliding the cushion over, then tucks his sheet in and grabs his pillow and blanket off of the bed over the cab. At home, he usually sleeps in his boxers, and after a moment he decides he might as well be comfortable, balling up his t-shirt and basketball shorts by his feet. He’ll wear them tomorrow. 

The dinette benches make a decent bed. Louis plugs his phone into the charger that runs off the truck battery, and sends a quick text to Niall.

**LOUIS:** _Harry uploaded today’s stuff_

Almost immediately, three little dots appear.

**NIALL:** _Are you still pissed at me?_

**LOUIS:** _Yes_

**NIALL:** _You’ll get over it_

**NIALL:** _How’s the trip?_

Louis sighs. He’ll get over it, but only because Niall’s right. Adding the two weeks bonus vacation time to their requirements behind Harry’s back was shitty, and he never should’ve done it. But without Niall’s intervention, it would’ve gotten him out of the situation he’s in now. 

**LOUIS:** _Fun so far. Wild horses are wild! We’re kayaking tomorrow._

**NIALL:** _How’s Harry? ;)_

**LOUIS:** _Fuck off_

Locking his phone, Louis closes his eyes, listening to the ocean. Normally, he stays up much later, but with how early they got started that morning, and everything they did that day, he’s tired and the sun’s still up. Five o’clock will come early, too, so hopefully Harry will be back soon and they can turn off the lights and go to sleep. 

“—have time.” Louis’ eyes fly open at Harry's quiet, yet clearly annoyed voice just outside the window. “We were filming on and off all day, and doing, like, park activities.”

Louis squeezes his eyes shut, but doesn’t cover his ears.

“No, park activities. Like, biking and— You know what? I don’t have to explain my job to you.”

Louis covers his ears. All it does is muffle Harry’s words.

“We’re not working twenty-four-seven. No, I don’t want to FaceTime you right now. I don’t really want to talk to you right now. You’re being a dickhead.”

Louis opens his eyes and rolls towards the wall of the camper. If he can’t _not_ listen, he can at least pretend to be asleep when Harry comes in. 

“I’m not calling you names. You’re acting like a dickhead, then. Is that better? I texted you when we got here, and I called you before bed. Exactly like I said I would.”

Louis closes his eyes again, perfectly able to picture Harry standing outside, scuffing the toe of his flip flop against the paved campsite, one arm wrapped tightly around his chest, head bent down and shoulders hunched. 

“I’m not calling you during the day. I’m just not. You’re being really unfair.” 

The sound of Harry’s flip flops pacing outside the window fades away, and Louis listens harder. He can hear Harry’s voice further away, but can’t make out the words. A moment later, his voice gets louder, and it sounds like he’s standing outside the door to the camper.

“—sorry too. I am. Yeah. Love you, too. ’Night.” Harry opens the camper door, and the truck wobbles a bit as he steps inside. He whispers, “Lou?” but after a moment, during which Louis carefully breathes as evenly and slowly as he can, Harry turns off the lights and climbs into the bed over the truck cab. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

Five-ish o’clock in the morning is the worst time in the world. When Harry’s phone alarm goes off, Louis is instantly awake, though grumpy about it. Harry’s grumpy too, which seems unfair, considering it was his idea to get up that early, though it may have something to do with the previous evening’s phone call. 

It’s so dark that they each grab a Maglite so they can make it down to the beach without stepping in horse shit, and they sit there in the sand, silently waiting for the sunrise. The sky brightens long before the sun is visible on the horizon, but neither of them remembered a camera, so they just watch the sky change colors for a while. 

When Harry's loud yawn breaks the silence, Louis says, “Yep, I’m going back to bed.”

They get another few hours of sleep, and then spend most of the day kayaking around the marsh. It’s beautiful, but the mosquitoes are awful, and Harry’s quiet unless he’s on camera. Louis lets him be. It’s none of his business anyway, and Harry’s mood hasn’t interfered with their jobs. 

When they go to bed that night, Harry calls Bryan from outside the window, and as soon as Louis hears him, he knocks on the side of the camper. Harry takes the hint, and Louis listens to his footsteps disappear as he walks away. That’s not something he’ll be able to do at every park, and Louis hopes Harry realizes on his own. He doesn’t want to have to tell him that he can’t wander off when they’re tent camping in the woods in Massachusetts. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

Harry’s bad mood lasts through breakfast, and another long beach walk to see the ponies, but seems to fade a little around lunchtime. After a very short drive, they arrive at Trap Pond State Park in Delaware. 

It’s only been a few days since they started their journey, but they settle into their routine easily, biking around the park until dark on the first day. Day two’s big activity is a pontoon boat tour, and Louis has never been more thankful for bug repellant. 

After lunch on Friday, they pack up and leave for Allaire State Park in New Jersey, and Louis hopes that the historic village and steam trains will be enough to get Harry out of his head. 

“We’re so close to the interstate,” Harry says as soon as he finishes backing into their campsite. “It’s like, right there.”

Louis checks the park map, and the interstate does run right alongside the campsite. “Weird that they’d put the campsite so close to the road.”

“Yeah…” Harry scowls, opening the camper door. “What do you want to do first?”

“Bike around,” Louis says, climbing up behind him and grabbing a bottle of sunscreen. He steps back down and sets the bottle on the picnic table. Might as well go ahead and get the bikes off the roof rack before they get their hands slippery with sunscreen. As soon as Harry climbs back out of the camper with both of their water bottles, they unload the bikes, smear sunscreen all over themselves, and take off. 

“Even with the highway there, it’s still like… wilderness,” Harry says, and Louis laughs.

“This probably doesn’t count as wilderness,” Louis says, pulling up to the bathrooms with the hot showers. They quickly check them out, and record a little bit about them from outside, then hop back on their bikes. 

Since it’s the weekend, they’re planning to go to Allaire Village on Saturday and spend most of the day there, checking out the buildings, and probably riding on the steam trains. Today is just for exploring, so as soon as they finish at the showers, they mount the camera to Harry’s bike, and follow the road until they hit the closest trail. 

The wooded trails are quieter than their campsite, and once they get far enough from the roads that they can’t hear the cars, Harry turns off his camera, and says, “Sorry I’ve been shitty the past few days.”

“It’s fine, Harold,” Louis says. Wanting to lighten the mood, he adds, “The honeymoon phase couldn’t last forever.” 

“How’d you know?” 

“Well, I mean, I said I was going to slowly drive you insane, it’s just happening a bit quicker than—”

“Oh, um… You said ‘honeymoon’ and I thought you meant, like, with me and Bryan and— Did you see that frog?” Harry stops fast. 

“What?” Louis asks, stopping his bike and getting off, pushing it back to where Harry’s peering into the woods beside the path. “Are you looking for a frog?”

“Yeah, but it hopped away,” Harry says, turning to Louis and pouting. 

“Hey, so, um… Listen. I was joking about the honeymoon thing,” Louis says, taking a swig of water to stall and try to get his words in order. “I, um, so the first night at Assateague, I overheard you arguing with Bryan.”

“Oh…” Harry closes his eyes tightly, clenching his jaw.

Louis looks off into the woods; it’s easier to talk if he’s not watching Harry. “I didn’t know what to say and I didn’t want to interrupt and maybe embarrass you and I thought you’d, like, remember the window was open, and then you didn’t, and I didn’t know how to stop you, so I just covered my ears, but, yeah… I’m sorry.” 

“Lou,” Harry huffs a little laugh, and says, “I figured— Well, I didn’t figure _all_ of that out, but I figured you heard because the next night you whacked the side of the camper. It’s why I’ve been calling him from, like, the truck cab.”

“Oh… That’s where you’ve been going. Thought I was going to have to warn you not to wander off in the woods,” Louis says, relieved. “But, um, yeah. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Harry says, swinging his leg over his bike. “I thought we’d just pretend it never happened, like we’ve been doing. I’m sorry you had to hear any of that.”

“Ehh… Relationships are hard,” Louis says, pedaling just behind Harry. “At least, that’s what I’ve been told.”

“You _just_ broke up with Chad.”

“Yeah, but that was never going to go anywhere,” Louis admits. 

Looking back over his shoulder, Harry asks, “Why’d you stay with him then?” 

“Watch where you’re going, Harold,” Louis says. Instead of answering the question, he hums a few bars of “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” and leaves it at that. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

Saturday morning—day six—after breakfast, they walk part of the same trail they biked the day before, a little less than a mile to Allaire Village. It’s not Louis’ idea of fun, really, following an audio tour around a two-hundred-year-old village. With their headphones on, he can’t make jokes, at least, not where Harry can hear them, so he walks from building to building, learning about iron works. 

After they finish the tour, they find a more isolated spot, and Harry flips on the camera, pointing it at Louis. “What’d you think, Lou?”

“Ehh…” Louis glances over at the General Store, wondering if they sell glass bottles of Coke, or if it’s more of a museum filled with things the residents of the historic village would’ve actually needed to purchase. “It’s not really my thing. The craft demonstrations were pretty neat, I guess. I wonder if I would’ve been a blacksmith two-hundred years ago.”

“Maybe,” Harry says, turning the camera on himself and shuffling around until he’s standing next to Louis. “I think that some of these parks aren’t going to be exciting for everyone, but that’s okay. Like, not everyone likes to learn about the Civil War, but also not everyone likes the beach, or biking, or hiking, or kayaking.”

“I see what you’re saying, Harold,” Louis says, nodding slowly. “We’re showing people what’s available, not necessarily what we’d do if we were out here doing our own thing.”

“Yeah.” Harry nods, too, draping his arm around Louis’ shoulder. It’s already hot out, and he’s been sweating since they stepped out of their air conditioned camper, but Harry’s warmth makes him lose focus, and he doesn’t hear another word until Harry bumps their hips together, and says, “Right, Lou?”

“Right,” Louis repeats, hoping he hasn’t agreed to anything horrible. They’re supposed to go on a steam train, but he doesn’t really want to. 

“Right. We’re going hiking,” Harry says to the camera, and then turns it off. “I’m excited for this trail. An actual reason to wear those fancy hiking boots.”

“What?”

While Louis was distracted by the weight of Harry’s arm around his shoulders and the heat of his body, Harry got him to agree to skip the train and hike the four and a half mile, moderately difficult trail loop, all because they haven’t had the chance to wear their new hiking boots. After all, they didn’t wear them around the office for three weeks to break them in for nothing. 

It’s not a difficult hike. Not like some of the ones he expects once they’re in the Rockies, or even properly in the Appalachian Mountains. But by the time they’re done, Louis is dead tired. He showers and stretches and, after they eat dinner and clean up, he’s done for the day. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

Housatonic State Park in Connecticut is lovely, especially the campsite, which is right on the Housatonic River. It’s quite the change, going to sleep to the sound of a river instead of the sound of an interstate highway. Though Louis does have the overwhelming urge to pee first thing when he wakes up both mornings. 

On Tuesday, they wake up before the sun so that they can get on the road to Colt State Park in Rhode Island, three hours away. It’s the first time Harry gives in when Louis asks for an Egg McMuffin. 

Since it’s the only park where they’re not staying overnight, they arrive just after the park opens at sunrise, leave the truck camper in the visitor’s parking lot, and take off on their bikes. The plan is to see as much of the park as they can in three hours, because the next park on their list is Cobscook Bay State Park on the east coast of Maine, and it’ll take them about seven hours to drive there. Their longest drive yet. 

“Alright, we’ve got a full tank of gas,” Louis says, sliding into the driver’s seat and starting up the truck. “You’re in charge of the music, Harold.”

“I am?” Harry asks, unlocking his phone. 

“While I appreciate your ability to fall asleep literally as soon as I pull onto the highway, this is a long drive,” Louis says, glancing over and grinning at Harry’s furrowed brow. “You’re going to have to keep me entertained.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, and The Rolling Stones begin to play. “Been stuck in my head since the other day.”

“Thanks,” Louis says, keeping his eyes on the road. 

An interesting way to be reminded that he definitely can’t get what he wants, and due to circumstances, he can’t even get what he needs. Jerking off in a public shower isn’t something he can bring himself to do. It’s possible that, before they reach the end of this trip, Louis might explode from pent up sexual frustration. In all of the planning that they did, it never occurred to him that he’d need to plan some way to get off quickly and quietly. 

There’s no telling if Harry’s completely comfortable jacking it in the park showers or if he does it at night when Louis is asleep, though there hasn’t been any evidence on the sheets. If he was on this trip with Niall, Louis would just flat out ask him, but he can’t mention masturbation to Harry. Even thinking about it has heat crawling up his neck. He adjusts the vent so the air conditioning blows directly on his face. 

The music cuts out, and Harry’s phone rings. Louis can see Bryan’s name on the screen, and looks over at Harry just as Harry looks at him. He shrugs apologetically, and answers, “Hey.”

Eavesdropping is impossible to avoid when the conversation is taking place a few feet away in the enclosed cab of a truck, but Louis tries. Still, it’s easy to pick up the gist of it. Because they were up so early that morning, and rushed to get through Rhode Island, Harry forgot to text Bryan ‘good morning’ which is clearly an unforgivable offense. 

“You could’ve texted me,” Harry says, “I don’t know. What _is_ the point? You’ve got, like, a regular schedule, and things are far from regular for me. I’m on the way to Maine right now!” Harry flips the visor down and opens the mirror, scowling at himself. He flips it back up, and lowers his voice. “Of course I miss you. But my days are full. We’re doing like, super active stuff, and I’m tired at night. I can’t stay up late chatting. And, like, you don’t even really seem to care about what I’m doing. Did you know we’re going clamming in Maine? I’m really excited about it and you’re— Yes, I’m having fun with Louis! I don’t have to do something with _you_ for it to be fun. That’s… I’m going to go. I can’t— We’re in the goddamn truck, Bryan, and how nice for Louis who has to overhear me arguing with my boyfriend. Fine. I’ll call you tonight. Bye.” Louis stares at the road ahead, the music kicks back on, and Harry says, “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, Harry,” Louis says, though it’s really not and he hopes he doesn’t have to witness any other conversations with Bryan. “The trip’s bound to be hard on your relationship. I haven’t really even talked to anyone but you and Niall since we left.”

“Yeah, I mean, I knew it wouldn’t be easy,” Harry says, sighing quietly and looking out the window. “Are you excited about Maine?”

“I don’t know if I’d say I’m excited,” Louis says, sucking on his lower lip as he thinks it over. “I had to Google clamming to see what it’s like.”

“What’d you think?”

“Looks gross, to be honest.”

Harry laughs. “It does. I’ve never done it. I’m glad they supplied us with those rain boots, but that’s why I bought extra dish washing gloves when we got groceries.”

“Can I have the leopard print?” Louis asks, and Harry laughs again.

“Sure.”

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

It starts raining as soon as they get off the interstate near Bangor, Maine, just after they stop for gas and Harry gets behind the wheel. For those last two hours, they’re almost completely silent, and Harry sits up, shoulders hunched, brow furrowed and jaw clenched. 

“Hopefully it won’t rain the whole time we’re in Maine,” Louis says, checking the weather app on his phone. “Rain, Maine.”

Harry snorts quietly, and blindly reaches over to smack Louis’ thigh. “Hush, I’m concentrating.”

“My poetry is too distracting?”

“More like it’s so awful I might drive off the road to put myself out of my misery,” Harry says, lips quirking into a smile that he tries to fight by scrunching his nose like he needs to sneeze. 

“And here I was, worrying that we might not be able to go clamming,” Louis says, tutting and crossing his arms. “Looking out for you.”

“Were you really?” Harry asks.

“Not anymore,” Louis says, but Harry smiles anyway. 

When they get to the park, the rain is still coming down, though not as heavily, and Louis runs inside the camp office to check them in. Their campsite is right by the water, on a ridge high enough above the rocky shore that they won’t be climbing down from there. It’s gorgeous, tranquil, and even the rain doesn’t detract from it. 

“Oh… Look at it,” Harry says in a hushed voice.

“I am,” Louis says, leaning forward to get a better view of the rocks below. 

Snatching Louis’ arm and holding tight, Harry yells, “Lou!” 

“I’m not gonna fall,” Louis says. He takes a step back, but Harry doesn’t let go of his arm right away. 

“I shouldn’t have to say this,” Harry warns, crossing his arms over his chest. “But if you do something stupid, like fall off a cliff and die while we’re on this trip, I will kill you.”

“Aw, Harold,” Louis says, reaching up and pinching his cheek. “Same.”

“Good. Now that we’ve agreed, no dying. Can we start a fire?”

“In the woods?”

“In the fire pit,” Harry says, pointing to the circular metal fire pit.

“Harry, it’s raining. We’re literally standing in the rain. I know you’re excited about the cooler weather, but…” Taking a deep breath, Louis exhales, puffing out his cheeks and propping his hands on his hips. “If you really want—”

“Louis, I’m kidding,” Harry says, tugging on his arm. “It’s dinner time. We can have a fire tomorrow.”

“You’re the worst,” Louis says, following him back to the camper. They knock the mud off their shoes, and stick them in the closet by the door. “I was going to let you ruin our firewood.”

“Were you really going to let me try to start a fire in the rain?”

“Yeah, why not?” Louis asks, waiting until Harry’s out of the way so he can bend down and touch his toes. Sitting for so long has his muscles stiff, and they got in so late that they won’t be able to do their usual bike ride around the park until tomorrow. 

Louis stands back up, and Harry says, “We could try to roast the clams over the fire tomorrow night, maybe.”

“Yeah, that’s good television, Harold,” Louis says, “Good thinking.”

“Yeah, um… Yeah.” Nodding quickly, Harry opens the fridge and pulls out the leftover chicken legs he made the other night. They don’t bother heating them because they’re both too hungry and tired to care. And when they finish up, Louis cleans the few dishes they have, and Harry texts Niall to tell him that they’ll send their footage as soon as they have WiFi. 

They gather their shower stuff and clean clothes—which they’re running out of—and Louis drives them to the showers, all the way on the other side of camp. No point in getting clean just to slog their way through the mud on the way back. 

When they’re back at their campsite, Harry stays in the truck to call Bryan, and Louis crawls into the bed over the cab, plugging in his phone and trying to get comfortable, though he knows he won’t sleep with the lights still on. After a moment, he climbs back down out of his bed, and sets up the dinette bed for Harry, pulling the sheet tight around it. 

“Thanks, Lou,” Harry whispers when he steps into the camper and shuts the door. “You didn’t have to set up my bed.”

“I, um…” Louis chuckles, and lies, “I forgot whose turn it was in the big bed.”

“Oh, well, thanks anyway,” Harry says, turning off the lights. “Sweet dreams.”

“’Night, Harold.”

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

Louis was right. It’s pretty gross, clamming. Thankfully they each have a pair of knee high rain boots with their other gear, and though they may look ridiculous with their leopard print and zebra print dishwashing gloves, at least their hands stay relatively clean. The rain tapered off into a drizzle that cleared away as the sun came up—before five in the morning, which is far too early. If Louis’d known, he would’ve snapped the shade down over the open window before he went to sleep. 

They trudge through the sinking mud along the shore, each with a basket to carry their clams. Every step makes a disgusting slurping sound, and by the time they get to the edge of the water, they’re both bent over giggling. 

It takes them a moment to warm up to the idea of shoving their hands into the mud and grabbing blindly for clams, but eventually Louis closes his eyes and goes for it, reasoning that a clam isn’t likely to bite his fingers off. Even so, he uses his left hand. Once they get started, it’s easy, and filling up their two peck baskets takes no time at all. They walk over to the water and give their baskets a perfunctory dunk and rinse, and make their way back through the slippery mud to their campsite. 

“Okay, so the internet says—”

“Well, if the internet says it, it must be true.” Louis laughs, dumping his basket of clams into the big pot of cool, salted water. 

“Shut up,” Harry says, but he laughs, elbowing Louis out of the way. “So we leave them in this water for like thirty minutes, but since we don’t have anything else big enough to hold them all, we’ll have to wash the pot in between soaks.”

“You think it’s cool enough to leave them out?” Louis asks, opening the fridge. There might be enough room if they move everything around. 

“I think so,” Harry says, peering into the pot. “They look so weird.”

“They’re clams.” Still, Louis peeks at them too. They do look weird. “Alright, quick bike around, then we’ll stop back and do this again.”

As hot as it’s been, the cooler Maine weather is a welcome reprieve, even with the rain the previous evening. They finally get to wear their Tellurian International hoodies. There are a few other campers, and they wave as they pass by, but they don’t stop. With the camera mounted on Harry's bike, they’d have to ask permission to film, and neither of them feel up to doing that. Surprisingly, especially with their bright blue and green camper, so far they haven’t had a lot of people interested in what they’re doing. Of course, it’s still early in the season, and most kids are still in school. It’s likely that later in the summer, they’ll wind up chatting to fellow campers more often. 

Back at the camper, they carefully lift each clam out of the water and set them on the towel they laid out on the dinette table. When the pot is empty, Louis cleans it out, and they start again, mixing salt with cool water, and setting the clams back inside. They wind up doing it twice more, and the clams filter themselves clean. Magic. Outside, the temperature has risen slightly, so they make room in their little fridge for the pot of clams. 

With only one full day in Maine, they try to make the most of it, and carry their kayak up to the nearby boat launch so they can get in the water without walking through the mud again. Somehow, they manage not to tip over. 

“Hey, Lou?” 

Louis can’t exactly turn around, though he does look back over his shoulder. The kayak wobbles, and they both instinctively steady it with their paddles. Facing straight ahead, Louis says, “Harold.”

“Remember how we got up to see the sunrise over the ocean in Assateague?”

“Yes,” Louis says slowly; he knows what’s coming.

“And remember how we both forgot the cameras?”

“Yes.”

“What do you think about getting up early tomorrow?”

“Sounds painful and horrible and I don’t want to,” Louis says honestly.

“Oh, um…”

“I mean, I’ll do it. But I won’t be happy about it.”

“You will?” Harry asks, voice going up an octave. When Louis nods, the boat wobbles again, and he’s positive that Harry was going to try to hug him before he remembered where they were. “It’ll be so cool, Lou. We’re at, like, the easternmost point of the country. Sort of.”

Louis snorts. “Sort of. Make sure to say that in the video.”

“Will do,” Harry says, and Louis can hear him grinning. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

The clams are a lot easier to cook over an open fire than Louis anticipated. He gets the fire started while Harry brings the pot out of the fridge, and they work together to set the clams on the cast iron pan to roast. 

“These are really good,” Louis says, holding a hot clam in a folded up washcloth so it doesn’t burn his hand. He pries the open shell apart the rest of the way, and pops the clam into his mouth with a fork. “Compliments to the chef and all that.”

“Thanks,” Harry says, waving his pot holder covered hand at Louis as if he doesn’t deserve the compliment. And though it’s getting darker out and they’re sitting by the fire, his cheeks seem to flush a little pinker. 

Louis reaches for another clam, but as soon as he picks it up, he drops it, and it lands right in the middle of the fire. “Shit.”

Before Louis realizes what he’s doing, Harry reaches into the fire with his pot holder and grabs the clam. “Got it!” 

“Harold! What the fuck?” Louis reaches across the fire and yanks the pot holder off of Harry’s hand, throwing it on the ground, and burning his own hand in the process. 

“I got your clam,” Harry says, frowning at him.

“That fucking pot holder isn’t fireproof! Look at it,” Louis says, picking up the pot holder with his folded washcloth. Along the side, where Harry’s hand was close to the hottest part of the fire, the material is melted. “Jesus Christ, Harry. We said no dying, and that includes setting yourself on fire.”

“It was an accident!” Harry insists, poking at the melted spots on the pot holder with a clam shell. “I wasn’t thinking. Just wanted to save your clam.”

“Oh my god.” Dropping into his camp chair, Louis buries his head in his hands. He turns to the camera, which they set up beside them on the corner of the picnic table to record, and says, “I hope we got that on camera.”

Cleaning up is easy enough, and Louis texts Niall that they won’t be able to upload anything until the next day. The camp has no WiFi, but they have to stop and do laundry on their way to New Hampshire, so hopefully they can send everything then. 

In bed with the lights off, Louis tries to go to sleep, but can’t. Harry’s conversation with Bryan was short, and he was only alone for a few minutes, barely enough time to get comfortable, and not nearly enough time to pretend to be asleep already. 

Harry climbs into his bed, and lifts his leg, poking Louis’ arm with his toe. “Thanks for not letting me set myself on fire.”

Without opening his eyes, Louis grabs Harry’s ankle and squeezes, then pushes his foot away. “Welcome, Harold.”

“I… I think…” Harry clears his throat and pokes Louis with his toe again, but this time he’s fast enough that Louis can’t catch his foot. 

“What?” Louis asks, rolling on his side and letting his arm hang down off his bed. He scratches Harry’s leg through his blanket, and says, “I’m listening.”

“I just wanted to tell you,” Harry says, pausing to take a deep breath. “I’m glad they picked us to do this together. I don’t know if I’d want to be on this trip with anyone else. That’s all.”

“That’s high praise,” Louis says, trying to focus on Harry’s face in the dark. “But we’re not even two weeks in.”

“I know, but I also just… know.”

“Ahh… philosophical,” Louis says, falling onto his back. They’ve got a long drive, and an early morning, if they want to see the sun come up. “You’ll probably change your mind when you see the way I do laundry.”

Harry snorts. “Please tell me you separate your clothes.”

“Well, I wasn’t intending to wash the clam towels with everything else, but other than that, I figured we’d just dump it all into the machine.”

“No… Louis, you’re not serious.”

“I’m not. I can do laundry, but Niall hates the way I fold towels.”

“That might be the end of us then,” Harry says, and Louis can hear him smiling. 

“Find out tomorrow,” Louis whispers, then adds, “Dun, dun, dun…”

Harry's giggles are the last thing Louis hears before he falls asleep.

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

“Wake up, Lou,” Harry says, shaking him, and Louis' body jerks, eyes flying open. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Louis says, rubbing his eyes. He pulls the pillow from beneath his head and covers his face with it. His body isn’t awake yet, and it’s so early that when he sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed, he almost falls forward, too slow to stop himself. Thankfully, Harry’s there.

“Sorry. I know it’s super early,” Harry says, rubbing his hands over Louis’ shoulders. “I made coffee.”

“Coffee?” Feeling more awake by the second, Louis hops down, wiggling his fingers at the travel mug on the counter. Harry hands it to him, and Louis sighs. “I love you.”

Before he can over-explain, or worse, take it back, Harry laughs quietly and bumps their travel mugs together. “Love you, too, Lou. Grab the camera?”

“Sure, yeah,” Louis says, completely awake now. He snatches the camera off the shelf by the door, and steps into his rain boots, following Harry out into the dark campsite. 

With their camp chairs near the ledge above the rocky beach, they sit in the dark, not talking, and waiting for the sun. First light is just after four, and they record the whole thing in timelapse mode. Hopefully Niall will be able to do something with the footage because it’s beautiful.

“It’s prettier than the other sunrise,” Louis says when the sun is higher in the sky, and they turn the camera off. 

“Thanks for waking up to watch it,” Harry says, folding his chair and carrying it back to the camper. “You want to sleep more or should we get on the road?”

“Let’s go. We have to get groceries and do laundry, so we might as well get started,” Louis says. 

After making sure everything inside the camper is where it should be, they do one last sweep of the campsite to be certain they leave it cleaner than they found it, and then they’re on the way to New Hampshire. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

Harry drives first and lets Louis sleep most of the morning. He wakes up hungry, and disoriented, and confused by the tiny ponytail on top of Harry’s head.

“Where are we?” Louis asks, then slaps his hand over his mouth. “Need to brush my teeth next time we stop.”

“We’re almost there,” Harry says, pointing to the screen of the GPS. Less than an hour to go. 

“Harold, you weren’t supposed to let me sleep all morning,” Louis says, rolling the window down and sticking his head out. 

“Well, now you’re awake, and you have a job to do,” Harry says, rolling Louis’ window up. Scowling at him, Louis sits back, and waits. “Find a laundromat near a grocery store so we can do both at the same time.”

It’s not a difficult job. They haul their heavy duffle full of two weeks worth of dirty clothes inside, and fill three regular washing machines. Harry won’t let Louis shove everything into one of the massive front load washers, though he was mostly joking, and he leaves Louis to supervise the laundry while he walks next door to the grocery store. 

“Price Chopper,” Louis says to himself. Someone should take a trip to all of the different grocery chains around the country. 

There’s a free WiFi sign on the door to the laundromat, so Louis checks to see if he can use it with his phone before going out to the camper to get the laptop. Back inside the laundromat, he hops up to sit cross legged on one of the washing machines, opening the laptop. He starts uploading the video files, but it’s slow going.

When Harry walks past the window with a cart full of groceries, Louis picks up the laptop and follows him to the camper. 

“It’s taking forever to send the footage,” Louis says, checking that the WiFi is still connected before setting the laptop down on the table and helping Harry put away the groceries. They've been lucky up to now, that the parks have let them use their private WiFi.

After they switch the laundry to the dryers, Louis climbs back onto the empty washer, and says, “I should text Niall. Make sure he got everything.”

“Can you FaceTime him?” Harry asks, hopping onto the washing machine beside him. 

Louis tilts the phone and holds it farther away so they’ll both fit on the screen, but Harry still leans in, resting his head on Louis’ shoulder and yawning. 

“Hello, campers!” Niall’s voice comes through sounding like they’re using walkie talkies. “Where are you?”

“New Hampshire,” Louis says. 

“Laundromat,” Harry says. 

“Well, I figured you were either in New Hampshire or you’d broken down on the side of the road,” Niall says, turning his camera towards his wall calendar where he’s written their camping schedule in bright green. When his face appears again, he asks, “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Louis says with a shrug, and Harry lifts his head.

“We sent the footage and wanted to know if you got it,” Harry says, gesturing around the room. “Free WiFi.”

“Yeah, it came through,” Niall says. He winks obnoxiously, as he often does, and asks, “Have you watched any of your videos?”

“No,” Louis says, and looks at Harry who shakes his head. “We’re only two weeks in. I didn’t know they’d be up so soon. You said probably a two week wait for the first one.”

"Well, we’ve only added the first one to the YouTube channel.” Niall says withs a shake of his head. “I meant, like, before you send them to me.”

“It’s hours of footage,” Harry says. 

“From each park,” Louis adds. They don’t have time to watch it. They don’t have time to watch the one video on YouTube.

“We don’t have time,” Harry says, and Louis nods. “And we trust you to make us look good.”

“You better,” Louis says, scowling at Niall through the phone. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Niall says, letting loose a chuckle. “Was just curious if you’d read any of the comments. But I guess not. People like the first video. They like the, um, dynamic between you two.”

“Yeah?” Harry asks hopefully.

“Yep,” Niall says. “Think the series will be a success, as long as you guys keep on doing what you’re doing.”

“Right,” Louis says slowly, wanting desperately to see the comments, though he knows they can’t be that bad if someone is monitoring them the way they’re supposed to. He’s curious, too, what Niall means by their ‘dynamic’ because as far as he can tell, they’re not behaving any differently than they do off-camera.

“Thanks, Ni,” Harry says, waving at the phone. “How’s living alone? You miss Lou?”

“Not at all,” Niall says, though Louis knows it’s a lie. “Love having the place to myself. Can’t believe you signed on for three months in a tiny ass camp—” 

The dryer behind them buzzes loudly, and Louis says, “Oops! That’s our laundry. Talk to you later.” He hangs up before Niall can say goodbye. 

“I’m glad the first video’s doing okay,” Harry says, pulling their clothes out of the dryer and dumping them into one of the wheeled baskets. He pushes it over to a table, and starts folding. 

Louis digs through the basket, grabbing their underwear and making a pile. Why they thought it’d be a good idea to share everything, he doesn’t know, but for the next three months, he has to live with the knowledge every day that Harry is probably wearing a pair of underwear that has once cradled his own balls and vice versa. He shakes his head and makes a second pile of socks. 

They finish their laundry, stuffing the socks and underwear into the smaller compartments, shorts on one side of the bag, shirts on the other. Despite the way Louis’ own brain can’t let go of certain aspects of sharing clothes, it’s worked out well so far. 

It isn’t a long drive to Franconia Notch State Park; it’s right down the road. But it’s already afternoon when they check in and find their campsite. One of only seven spots, and they’re right off of the parking lot, which is an interesting choice. Louis backs the truck into their spot, and almost as soon as they get out, they’re accosted by two little kids who look about eight or nine years old. 

“Hi, my name’s Charles, but my friends call me Charlie,” one of them says, offering his hand to shake. Louis takes it, gingerly shaking it while looking around for Charlie’s parents. Charlie points to the slightly taller boy beside him, and says, “This is my brother, Zachary, but I call him Zach. You’re not allowed to call him that though.”

“What if he wants me to?” Louis asks, glancing at Harry, who shakes Charlie’s hand too. 

“He won’t. He doesn’t like people, really. Just me,” Charlie says, taking his brother’s hand. He nods towards the nearest camper, a large RV. “That’s our house. My mom is Jenny and my dad is Charles, too, but that’s just a coincidence.”

“A coincidence?” Harry asks, huffing a short laugh. 

“Yep,” Charlie says, and Zachary rolls his eyes. “My mom met my dad when Zach was a baby.”

“Oh,” Harry says with a nod. “Well, I’m Harry and this is Louis. It’s nice to meet you both.”

“Do you work for Tellurian International?” Charlie asks, staring at their camper. 

“We do,” Louis says, shading his eyes and attempting to see through the tinted windows of the RV. “Are your mom and dad around? Can we meet them too?”

“Yeah, hold on,” Charlie says, turning and cupping his hands around his mouth. “Mom! Dad!”

It’s a few minutes before the RV door opens and a man steps out, carefully closing the door. He reminds Louis of Liam, though he’s definitely at least forty, if not older.

“Your mom’s taking a nap,” Charles says, ruffling Charlie’s dark hair. 

“Sorry. I forgot,” Charlie says. “They _do_ work for Tellurian International. Their names are Harry and Louis and I shook their hands.”

“I saw. I was watching through the window,” Charles says. “Tellurian International, huh?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry says, lacing his hands together behind his back and standing up straight. “We’re visiting forty-eight state parks this summer, living in that camper, and they’re making a YouTube series with the footage we send in.”

“Oh, really?” Charles nods towards his RV. “We live in there full-time. Go where the road takes us. The boys are homeschooled. My wife’s asleep, but she’ll love to talk to you. We actually watch a lot of the Tellurian videos. The boys love science.”

“Nice,” Louis says, propping his hands on his hips. “We’re supposed to ride the tram up to the summit later, but we usually bike around the park first thing. You guys’ll be around?”

“We’ll be here,” Charles says, waving and walking back to his RV.

Harry bumps his elbow into Louis’ and says, “Friendly.”

“Professional, Harold,” Louis says, turning and sighing at the thought of getting their bikes down again. It’s gotten easier, but it’s still a pain in the ass. 

After their bike ride around the park, they head for the tram, which is much larger than it seems in pictures. When he first read about it, Louis thought it was a typo, and that the tram held eight people, not eighty. There aren’t quite that many on board on the short right up, but there are enough that neither he nor Harry feel comfortable taping anything. At the summit, they’re able to record a short video of the observation deck showing the view of New Hampshire, Maine, Vermont, New York and Canada, but that’s all they’re able to do. The last tram ride down is at five o’clock, and they take that one, along with about seventy-eight other people. 

It’s been warm all day, but as evening sets in, the air cools, and by the time they bike back to their camper, Louis is thinking about starting a fire. 

“Let’s have a fire and just eat sandwiches for dinner,” Harry says, and Louis laughs, hopping off his bike. 

“Was thinking the same.”

“Can you start the fire without me?” Harry asks, looking at his phone. “Bryan watched the first episode and wants to talk about it.”

“Yeah, sure,” Louis says, “Hope he liked it.”

As he walks away, lifting his phone to his ear, Harry says, “Me, too.”

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

After breakfast the next morning, it takes them almost four hours to hike from their camper to the Flume at the base of Mount Liberty, and they’re just in time for their reservation. 

“It looks like an amusement park ride,” Louis says as they approach the check-in booths at the front of the building. Above the doors, the words THE FLUME are in large capital letters, painted gold, and it does look like they’re about to enter a ride at Disney World or something like that. 

“It sort of is,” Harry says, taking a long drink of water from his bottle before sliding it into place on the side of his backpack. They quickly check in, and move out of the way. “I mean, reservations, tickets, limited numbers, and it’s a one-way trail with wooden walkways.”

“True,” Louis says, combing his sweaty hair off his forehead and shaking out his official Tellurian International bucket hat. “Can't believe we hiked all the way here.”

“You hiked it?” Charlie asks, staring at them wide-eyed. He turns and yells, “Dad! They’re real explorers!”

“Sorry about that,” Charles says. “We drove up. Which way’d you come?”

“Part of the Appalachian Trail,” Harry says excitedly, and Louis shakes his head. Two weeks in a camper with air conditioning and a refrigerator, and Harry’s ready to hike the entire Appalachian Trail from Maine to Georgia with nothing but the pack on his back. Not that Louis would turn him down if Harry asked him to join. 

“We saw the Old Man on the mountain, or what’s left of him. We’re hiking back down, too,” Louis says. “We filmed a bit on the way up, and we’ll film the Flume Gorge, and then some more on the way down. Tomorrow, I think we’ll probably just swim. Maybe kayak? Not sure. We only have a two hour drive to our next park.”

“Smuggler’s Notch?” Charles asks, and Louis nods.

“How’d you know?” Louis asks.

“Told you we live in our RV,” Charles says, pointing to Zachary and a woman who must be Jenny as they walk up the path. “We’ve been everywhere.”

“I believe you,” Louis says with a laugh. Charlie introduces Louis and Harry to his mom, and they say their goodbyes when Charlie and his family line up at the check-in and Louis and Harry start towards the Flume Gorge. 

Louis checks the GoPro on his backpack strap, and turns it on as Harry does the same. They face each other and wave at each other’s cameras, giggling at how ridiculous they must look. 

“These are so cool,” Harry says, adjusting his backpack straps. “It’s nice not to have to worry about holding the camera.”

“It’s nice not to have a camera stuck to my head,” Louis says. 

“That’s a nice boulder,” Harry says, sounding just like Donkey from _Shrek,_ and Louis cackles. 

“Fucking massive boulder, you mean,” Louis says, walking a little faster to get to it. He stands in front of it and squats down, pretending to lift it on his back. 

“It’s called the Great Boulder, actually,” Charlie says, and Louis nearly jumps out of his skin. 

“Where’d you come from?” Louis asks, looking around for Charlie's family. They’re making their way up the path towards the boulder, but Charlie must’ve run ahead. 

Waving at them, Charlie says, “Louis said the F-word.”

Louis gasps. “I did _not_ know you were listening, but I’m very sorry, and I won’t do it again.”

“Where I can hear you,” Charlie says, and Harry snorts.

“We’re filming,” Harry says, tapping the camera on his backpack strap, and waving at Louis’ camera. “Just so you know.”

“We figured you would be,” Jenny says with a smile. “It’s fine. We don’t mind.”

“Thanks, um…” Harry backs up to the boulder, and Louis stands in front of him. They film each other while Harry says, “This is the Great Boulder, and while it _is_ massive and nice, it’s officially just great. It’s the first sort of milestone—though we haven’t been a mile yet—so it’s the first big thing on this trail that we’ve seen. And it’s very, very big.” 

“You guys get paid for that?” Charlie asks, and Jenny shushes him. 

“We watched your first video last night from Assateague Island,” she says, laughing as she covers Charlie's mouth. “They took turns saying ‘road apples’ and cackling until they went to sleep last night.”

“Ooh…” Harry cringes, and says, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Jenny says, bending down to kiss Charlie on the crown of his head. “It was funny. And he’s got a smart mouth sometimes. Don’t let him bother you.” Charlie runs off to join Zachary and Charles, who’ve walked ahead, but Jenny stays back, walking between Harry and Louis. “I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you have good chemistry on camera. I hope your series is successful.”

“Thanks,” Harry says, grinning and showing both dimples. 

Louis rolls his eyes, looking away to contain his smile. “Thanks, Jenny. I’m glad we’re coming across well in the videos, or at least in the one video. The rest might be awful.”

“Doubt that,” she says with a wink, and rushes off to join her family. 

“I still don’t want to watch,” Harry says as they start towards the river. “I think it’ll make me self conscious about recording.”

“Same,” Louis says, glancing over at Harry and wondering what self conscious Harry looks like. Regular Harry's been wearing a black Tellurian International tank top and hot pink shorts all day, with hiking boots and the same bucket hat that makes Louis look like a wannabe fisherman. Somehow he pulls it off. Maybe it’s just how he carries himself. Or maybe he actually does look like a complete idiot and Louis can’t tell because he’s blinded by his adoration. 

Despite the long hike up the mountain and the imminent climb around the Flume Gorge, Louis picks up the pace. 

“Wait up, Lou,” Harry says, coming up close behind him. “Or your ass will be the star of this video.”

“Harold!” Louis stops and spins around, cupping his ass with both hands. “What the f— hell?”

Harry barks a laugh at Louis’ sudden change of phrase. “I’m just saying. If we stay together, we don't have to worry about one of our bums being on camera the whole time. Walk with me.”

“Ugh. Fine.” 

They round the bend in the path, and the sound of the river grows louder, echoing off the granite as they approach the covered bridge. More people are milling around, with families crowding together for photos in front of the rushing water, and Louis and Harry wait their turn while group after group take pictures. Charlie, Zachary, Jenny, and Charles stand together, and Harry offers to take their picture. 

“Okay, everybody! Say boulder!” Harry yells, and Louis yells along with them. 

It’s Louis’ turn on camera, so he stands in the middle of the covered bridge, and says, “This is the Pemigewasset River, which the Flume Brook joins upriver. If you come to the Flume Gorge, the covered bridge, which we’re standing on, is a great place to take some pictures, but be sure to move along and let others have their turn. Right, Harry?”

“Right,” Harry says, giving him a thumbs up. 

When Louis meets him on the other side of the crowd, he says, “I feel stupid with all these people watching.”

“Why?” Harry asks. He takes off his sunglasses and lets them hang on the loose collar of his tank top. “It’s what we’re here for. Who cares what they think? That guy’s like eighty and he has a selfie stick, and like, more power to him.”

“Can I take your picture?” Jenny asks, holding up her phone. “I can send it to you. Or I can take one with your phone, if you’d rather.” 

“Sure, yeah,” Louis says, and he and Harry move to stand on the far side, where the river isn’t even visible, but the covered bridge is. He props his hands on his hips, giving his best smile, and Harry drapes his arm around Louis’ shoulder, apparently his go-to pose when they’re together in front of a camera. Louis closes his eyes behind his sunglasses and slips his arm around Harry’s waist. 

“Got it!” Jenny says, and Harry quickly gives her his phone number so she can send him the picture. 

A little farther up the path is Table Rock, and Harry talks as they walk past it, with neither of them stopping to record. The walkway isn’t meant for that, and with both of them, they’ll take up too much space. They keep moving parallel to the water, along the walkway which is bolted to the granite wall. It’s a narrow canyon—though in Louis’ mind, a canyon is much wider—with sides almost a hundred feet high and virtually perpendicular to the ground. As the path follows the Flume up the mountain, there are stairs and soon they find themselves meeting Charlie and his family again. 

“Scavenger hunt,” Charlie says, waving them closer with the piece of paper in his hand. “Zach saw a chipmunk, but since I didn’t see it, he won’t mark it off the list.”

“What’s the rule? Two people have to see the item for it to count?” Louis asks, and Zachary nods. “Well, keep looking then. Maybe that chipmunk has a friend. You’ve got two more sets of eyes. Harry and I’ll help.”

Just past Table Rock, the path splits, and the left trail goes away from the gorge. When they reach the top of the Flume, they’ve crossed a few more items off the scavenger hunt list, but still haven’t seen a chipmunk. They hike past Avalanche Falls, where the walkway crosses over the water, and start downhill, leaving the Flume Gorge behind. 

Harry spots the first chipmunk that they all see, and a few feet away, Zachary spots another one, which Louis quickly seconds, leading to an unexpected, quiet, “Thanks.”

They cross over a smaller covered footbridge, and back down past three other large glacial boulders, which Harry, Louis, and Charlie all pose in front of, like Atlas holding up the earth. It’s an easy walk down the rest of the way to the Great Boulder again, and back to the Visitor’s Center, where they refill their water bottles and say goodbye.

“That was fun,” Harry says, when they find the trail they plan to take back down to their campsite. “Not that it’s not fun with just you, I mean—”

“I know what you mean, Harold,” Louis says, reapplying sunscreen to his nose and passing it to Harry. “Makes me miss Doris and Ernie. They’d love a trip like this.”

“Have you talked to them?” Harry asks. 

“Not since we left DC,” Louis says with a quiet sigh. “I mean, I don’t know if you’ve ever tried talking to a small child over the phone, but it’s crazy with twins. They talk over each other and get super loud and FaceTime or Skype are worse. They’re more interested in seeing themselves on the screen.”

“Never thought about it,” Harry says, bending down to pick up a stick and throw it out of the path. “But it makes sense. I was obsessed with my reflection from like, age five to eight.”

“I’ve seen you checking yourself out in the mirror, Harold,” Louis says, poking him in the ribs and making him jerk away. “I send them emails and pictures and Lottie helps them send me emails back. Sometimes they text me from her phone, and it’s nothing but a string of random emojis.”

Harry laughs loudly, head tipped back, and stumbles over a tree root. “Shit! God, I have to pay attention.”

“Glad you said it, but yeah. I don’t want to have to haul your ass back to civilization.”

“I’ll be careful,” Harry promises. He slips his sunglasses back on and steps behind Louis, putting the sunscreen in his backpack, and handing him his water bottle. “I can’t imagine having brothers and sisters that much younger.”

“Yeah, it’s fun though,” Louis says, remembering how glad he was to already be on his own when they came along. At that age, he wasn’t ready to be woken up by crying babies, but maybe someday. “Good practice for having my own kids one day.”

“You want to have kids?” Harry asks, clearly surprised by the idea. 

“Yeah, definitely,” Louis says. “Do you?”

“Well, yeah, but I thought…” Harry hums, kicking a rock to the side of the path. “I thought, since you’re like, not into serious relationships, you wouldn’t want kids, ’cause that’s kind of a big commitment.”

Louis can’t help but laugh. When his giggles fade, he turns to find Harry frowning at him. “What? ‘Kind of a big commitment’ is quite the understatement.”

“Yeah, well…”

“And I’m not _not_ into serious relationships,” Louis says, though he knows he can’t fully explain. 

“I've known you for three years, and Chad is the only boyfriend you’ve had in that time,” Harry says, narrowing his eyes. “At least, that I’m aware of. Have you been hiding a husband and children this whole time?”

“Yeah, Harold,” Louis says, rolling his eyes. “They live in the smelly walled-in porch.”

“You want me to move in with your husband and— How many children?” 

“Very funny,” Louis says, looking down at the camera on his backpack strap. “Hope you’re enjoying this, Niall. We’ll shut up now.”

“Sorry,” Harry says, and he actually sounds apologetic. 

“It’s fine,” Louis says, though it’s far from fine. “I’m not, like, bothered. I do want kids. And a husband. But like I said—”

“You can’t always get what you want,” Harry sings, doing a horrible Jagger impression. 

“Right. Exactly.”

“Do you think we should’ve gone to the Basin?” Harry asks, pointing back the way they came. “I feel like it’s one of the must-see things and we skipped it.”

Louis shrugs. “I know it’s supposed to be cool, and I’d like to see it, but there were tons of people headed that way. Too crowded.”

“Yeah, I guess if they wanted us to make sure to go to certain landmarks, they would’ve said,” Harry says. 

“I, for one, can’t believe you don’t want to hike around to see the Cannon _Balls,”_ Louis says, snickering into his palm when Harry rolls his eyes. Usually, he’s careful with his jokes and innuendo around Harry, but that one’s too easy, and Harry made the same comment earlier that morning. 

“I’m tired, Lou,” Harry complains, checking his map. “There’s a small waterfall up ahead. Can we sit?”

“Yeah, man,” Louis says, peeking at the map. There are cascades along the river, and at the waterfall, they sit on a granite slab on the side of the path. “When you’re ready, want to walk out on the rocks?”

They sit for a while, and watch people pass by. A couple with a kid about Charlie’s age, and a toddler strapped into a backpack carrier, stop to watch the falls before moving on. After a few minutes, Harry stands, and stretches, and says, “Let’s go see what we see.”

“Sure, Harold,” Louis says, following him down to the water. At the base of some of the trees are small granite boulders, small relative to the Great Boulder, and there are flatter pieces of rock that they carefully step on until they’re in the middle of the brook.

Harry squats down, balancing with his feet on two separate rocks, and dips his fingertips in the water. “Oh, it feels good, Lou.”

Squeezing his eyes shut so he’s not staring at Harry’s ass in his little pink shorts and imagining him saying such things under different circumstances, Louis asks, “What if I push you in?”

“Don’t!” Standing up too quickly, Harry turns, and almost falls into the shallow water. His arms pinwheel as he finds his balance, scowling at Louis. 

“I wouldn’t,” Louis says, holding a hand out and waiting for Harry to take it. When he finally does, Louis squeezes it and drops it. “Back on the trail. Let’s go.”

The trail loops up and around to Lonesome Lake, which Louis thinks is perfectly named. Perhaps he should move out there permanently. There’s Lonesome Lake Hut, a basic bunkhouse with cold water and compost toilets, where they stop to take a rest, and buy two lemonades, recording outside to talk about the opportunities to hike in and stay there or at any of the other huts in the White Mountains. 

With their stops and the longer trails that they take, hiking back to their campsite takes more time than it took to hike up to the Flume Gorge, and when they get back, it’s after six o’clock.

As they’re walking past Echo Lake, Louis stops, and says, “Don’t know about you, but I’m going in the lake.” 

They go back to the camper for their swimsuits, and Louis, having perfected the quick-change over the past few weeks, is ready to go. On the trip so far, Louis has managed to avoid half-naked Harry for the most part. Sure, both of them sleep in their underwear, but their days are full, and they tend to get dressed before breakfast. All of their water activities have included life jackets, and this is their first time swimming together since the ocean at Assateague. 

Louis does his best not to stare, walking down the beach and straight into the lake, where he falls forwards, belly flopping on the water and sinking underneath. It’s invigorating, and as tired as he is from hiking almost fifteen miles—the most they’ve done in one day, and more than he ever wants to do in a single day again—he feels less exhausted just from floating in the cool water. 

Ignoring Harry while he combs his fingers through his tangled, wet curls, Louis asks, “What do you want to do for dinner? You didn’t say.”

“That’s ’cause I have a surprise!” Harry grins, both dimples deep in his cheeks. “I want to cook over the fire.”

Harry's surprise is popcorn, cooked in the big cast iron pot, which he sets on the metal grate over the fire and shakes almost constantly until the kernels stop popping, and hot dogs. Or sausages, really. 

“Big, fat, juicy sausages,” Harry says, and Louis would like to throw him back in the lake, but he refrains.

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

Saturday morning—day thirteen—they say goodbye to Jenny, Charles, Charlie, and Zachary, who gives them his scavenger hunt sheet as a souvenir. Harry promises to frame it and hang it in the camper. In the meantime, Jenny gives them a New Hampshire magnet from their refrigerator, and they stick it to their own little camper fridge. 

Smuggler’s Notch in Vermont is only two hours away and, still exhausted from their hike on Friday, they take it easy all weekend, conserving their energy for Mount Greylock in Massachusetts, where they’ll be hiking—with tents—almost two miles to their campsite. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

“In the next edition of the state parks guide, I want there to be at least one park in each state that allows campers and RVs,” Louis says, following Harry up the trail, bear spray in hand. 

“I know,” Harry says, glancing back at him. “I didn’t sign up for bears. What were we thinking?”

“We were thinking it was this or drive another five hours to New York,” Louis says, trying not to be grumpy. 

Because they’re hiking in, they don’t have air mattresses or anything other than their sleeping bags, tents, and backpacks. They went ahead and had lunch at the camper, because the food they brought for the next few meals has to be kept in bear-proof lockers at the campsite, along with their toothpaste and anything else the bears might decide smells delicious. Louis isn’t looking forward to it in the slightest. 

As soon as they reach the campsite, they set up their tents side by side, so the doors face each other, and they can talk if they have trouble falling asleep, which Louis fully anticipates. At least their sleeping bags are nice. 

“These tents are so easy to set up,” Harry says, extending one of the poles and poking Louis with it. “I’m glad they’re not complicated, but we could’ve done one bigger tent instead of two.”

Wondering why they weren’t given a two-person tent, or if the camping gods knew he’d need to be alone, Louis shrugs and unzips his tent, tossing his sleeping bag inside. Sleeping confined in a tent with Harry sounds like a nightmare that he’d never want to wake from. “Love that we can see the sky, if we want. It’s supposed to be clear tonight, so that’ll be cool.”

Harry waves at the camera on the edge of the picnic table, and Louis does too. 

“Ready?” Harry asks, picking up the camera, and slinging his backpack over his shoulder. He holds the camera up to record himself, and says, “We’re going hiking. It’s pretty much all we plan to do here, so don’t expect a lot.”

“We’ll record some stuff, don’t worry, Niall,” Louis says. “We want to show everyone the solar toilets and the bear lockers. Forgot to record when we were putting our stuff away.”

Shuddering, Harry passes Louis the camera. “Bears, man. You have your spray?”

“Yeah, got it,” Louis says, showing him the canister. “And we can be loud, right. That’s what we’re supposed to do.”

“Feels weird being loud in the woods, like, I usually want to be quiet so I can hear stuff, but yeah…” Harry sighs, following him towards the trail. He yells, “Hey, bears! Look out!”

Louis laughs, shoving Harry’s shoulder. “They better eat you first.”

“That’s not funny, Lou,” Harry says, pouting. “I’m already freaked out.”

“Don’t worry, Harold,” Louis reassures him. “I’ll protect you. Got my bear spray and also my loud mouth.”

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

Dinner is two PBJ sandwiches a piece, oranges, and grapes. Breakfast will be more fruit, and granola bars, with their big thermos full of coffee that will probably be closer to cold than hot by morning. 

It’s long past dark when they put the fire out and climb into their tents, and Louis was right, it’s a gorgeous view of the sky, but it gets a little old, staring at it for hours when he’d rather be sleeping. Checking his phone, which has absolutely no service, but at least still tells the time, Louis finds that it’s nearing three in the morning. He hasn’t been up past midnight since they started the trip, and he’s physically exhausted. The idea that a bear might decide to eat him because he dropped a tiny bit of peanut butter on the picnic table, even though he wiped it off and washed it with water and rubbed some dirt on it for good measure, has him wide awake. 

They’re supposed to hike all day, and he’s going to be useless if he can’t get some sleep. Quietly, Louis groans, pressing his hands to his tired eyes. 

“Lou?” Harry whispers, though Louis isn't sure if he’s hearing things or not until Harry asks, “You awake?”

“Yeah,” Louis answers, sitting up and rubbing his eyes, trying to focus on Harry’s tent in the light of the moon. “Can’t sleep.”

“I can’t either,” Harry says, quietly admitting, “I’m scared.”

Finding his flashlight where he left it beside the tent door, Louis flips it on, covering it with his hand, so it’s not too bright. “You want to talk about something to distract yourself? We could play twenty questions.”

“No,” Harry says, sitting up. “Can I…”

“Can you what, Harold?” Louis asks.

“Can I get in your tent? I’m just… I know we’re only like two feet apart, but I think I’ll feel safer if I’m not alone in my tent.”

“Yeah, man,” Louis says, unzipping the door and scooting back to make room. He pats the tent floor when Harry unzips his tent. “Come on.”

Still in his sleeping bag, Harry crawls across the small gap between their tents, and fits himself into the space in front of the tent door. He stretches out, adjusts his sleeping bag, and lays on his side, facing Louis. Louis turns off his flashlight, trying to get comfortable without accidentally touching him. 

“Thanks, Lou. I know, like, if a bear wanted to eat me, you wouldn't be able to stop it, but I feel safer sharing a tent.” Harry lightly squeezes Louis’ arm, and rolls over onto his other side. “I hope I can sleep.”

“Me, too,” Louis whispers. It’s a testament to how anxious the thought of a bear attack makes him, that he’s not that worried about sleeping next to Harry in such a tiny tent. If he wakes up with an untimely erection, there are two layers of sleeping bags between them. 

Harry’s breathing grows slower and steadier, and within a few minutes, he seems to have fallen asleep. With Harry’s warmth beside him, and the rhythm of his snores, Louis drifts off shortly thereafter. 

The sun wakes them up. At five in the morning. 

“Lou, we’re alive,” Harry says, and Louis snorts, burying his face in his sleeping bag. They appear to have spooned during the night, but considering that his back is pressed against the wall of the tent and there’s a decent amount of space in front of Harry, Louis feels like he’s not to blame. All’s fair in anxiety reducing cuddles against bear attacks or something like that. 

“No offense to your skills as a little spoon, Harold,” Louis says from beneath his sleeping bag, “but I don’t want to do this again tonight.”

“Oh, sorry. I can try to sleep in my tent,” Harry says, unzipping the tent and scrambling out of his sleeping bag. He crawls outside, standing and stretching his arms up to the sky, morning wood straining against the fabric of his underwear right there in the open for the bears and Louis to see. 

Burrowing farther under his sleeping bag, Louis says, “I meant we’re sleeping in the camper tonight. Go see if the bears ate our toothpaste.”

Rather than brush their teeth and eat breakfast at the campsite, they use the composting solar toilets, record a quick video, pack up their things, and hike back down to the camper. With no showers and no electrical hookups, they periodically start the truck to make sure the lights and fridge in the camper aren’t draining the battery, and after lunch, they take off into the woods. The least they can do is hike while they’re there. Harry’s pretty quiet the whole time, but Louis isn’t exactly talkative after the shitty night’s sleep they had either. 

It’s not until that night after dinner that Louis realizes Harry’s been more than just tired all day.

“Thanks for cooking,” Louis says, carefully wiping out the cast iron pan and setting it inside the little oven where they keep it. He says the same thing after every meal because he’s polite and because he likes the way Harry smiles when he says it. 

“Welcome,” Harry says, not smiling the way he usually does. “It’s the least I can do after ruining this park for you.”

“What the hell are talking about, Harold?” 

“We’re not camping in our tents because I—”

“Because neither of us want to,” Louis finishes for him. 

“Yeah, but, because you don’t want me in your tent with you and—”

Reaching across the table, Louis covers Harry’s mouth with his hand. “I only slept at all last night because you were in there with me.”

He raises his eyebrows, dropping his hand, and Harry says, “Oh.”

“We tried it; it’s not for us, right?” Waiting for Harry to agree, Louis nods until Harry nods too, then he says, “Harold, we don’t have to _like_ everything. We don’t have to _do_ everything. The park guide even says it’s ‘not for novice campers’ and that’s what we are.”

“Thanks, Lou,” Harry says, looking so relieved that Louis has to fight the urge to lean across the table and kiss his forehead. 

“Don't thank me,” Louis says, frowning at the window. He climbs onto the dinette bench on his knees and peeks outside just as lightning flashes, illuminating the falling rain. The thunder cracks and Louis sits back on his heels. “Okay, you can thank me, but next time there’s something you’re uncomfortable doing, tell me. I’d rather know ahead of time, and either skip it, or like, hold your hand through it, than… I don’t know, find out after we’re already in the desert that you’re allergic to sand, you know?”

“Allergic to sand?” Harry asks, getting up on his knees beside him to look out the window.

“I don’t know, man, I couldn’t think of anything else,” Louis says, shoving Harry’s shoulder in what he hopes comes across as a playful way. 

Having Harry so close is hard enough, but apparently Louis has a thing for Harry’s smell, which is only exacerbated by having no access to a shower. He doesn’t stink. He smells earthy, almost tangy, and somehow a little bit sweet. Crawling backwards off the dinette bench so he doesn’t uncontrollably sniff Harry’s armpit, Louis shakes his head, and goes back to washing their dishes. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

When they finish the five hour drive to Letchworth State Park in New York, they clean out their grey water tank and hook up the camper to the water and power at their site, then head straight for the showers. While they were at Mount Greylock, they had no phone signal or WiFi, so as soon as they hit civilization, Harry was texting back and forth with Bryan. Thankfully, Louis was spared listening to any conversations. 

Their second day, they have an evening reservation to take a hot air balloon ride, and it’s one of the things Louis has been looking forward to the most. He almost wishes he wasn’t going with Harry though, because he always thought if he went for a ride in a hot air balloon, it would be with a boyfriend. Like, a serious boyfriend, on the way to becoming a fiance, as in, while in the balloon basket. Not that he’s put a lot of thought into future proposals to anyone or anything like that. 

In the morning, they do an easy hike to start, walking near their campground by the Genessee River, and then drive the truck down to hike along the gorge to view the Lower, Middle, and Upper Falls, and the train trestle. The Middle Falls are majestic, according to Harry, though Louis agrees. The rainbows made by the mist are beautiful, but seeing a hot air balloon from the ground just makes Louis more excited for their turn. 

“You can get married here,” Harry says, looking at the inn behind them, and back at his park map. “That’s so cool. Imagine getting married in front of a waterfall and then there are, like, rainbows in the water.”

It does sound cool. Unfortunately, standing there with Harry means that Louis finds it impossible to imagine marrying anyone else, which is ridiculous, all things considered. 

Instead, Louis says, “Wait until you see Kentucky.”

“Kentucky?” Harry asks, clearly confused.

“The falls there have rainbows, too, but…” Louis stops himself, because if Harry doesn’t know, he’s not telling him. “Didn’t you read over the parks we’re visiting?”

“Yeah, but… Not really,” Harry says, tilting his head from side to side. “I was tired when we were choosing them, and it was like, information overload. I remember we’re going to see redwoods, and pink sand, and the Crater of Diamonds! But I don’t know, I figured we’ll see what we see, you know?”

“Okay, well, I’m not telling you anything. It can be a surprise.”

“Oh! And the coral reef!” 

Louis lets him continue rambling about the parks he does remember as they make their way around the park and back to their camper. They have an early dinner, and shower before changing into clothes that Louis is pretty sure won’t get sweaty. The hot air balloon launch site is near the Middle Falls, and as soon as they get there, Harry starts up again. 

“Imagine getting married here, and then taking off in a balloon!” Harry smiles so wide, that Louis kind of wants to reach out and touch his two front teeth, but he stops himself. “Ooh! Imagine a hot air balloon proposal over the rainbow in the falls, then getting married here like a year later, and leaving after the ceremony in another balloon ride.”

“I don’t want to,” Louis says, closing his eyes and trying not to imagine everything Harry said. 

Midway through their third week out of an estimated fifteen, and Louis is starting to think he might not make it to California, let alone all the way back across the country. Especially the desert, and the southeast, where Harry’s sure to find a way to wear fewer clothes. As if cutting the sleeves off of half of their t-shirts and practically forcing Louis to look at his nipples isn’t doing enough damage to Louis’ psyche. If he starts going shirtless, Louis might lose his mind. 

“Why not?” Harry asks, frowning and pushing his sunglasses up on his head. “I think we should mention it for our video. People love weddings.”

“No, you’re right,” Louis says, trying to mentally prepare himself for what’s to come. “It’s a good idea. I was just… joking.”

After they meet their pilot and go through the safety briefing, Harry pushes Louis to stand in front of the field where the balloon is being inflated, and aims the camera at him. “Alright, Lou, go ahead.”

Louis sighs, fiddling with his hair, which is still damp from his shower. “It’s evening here in New York at the Letchworth State Park, and we’re about to go for a ride in a hot air balloon to watch the sunset. Harry had an idea earlier today when we were at the Middle Falls.” Pointing at Harry, Louis continues, “Which are right over there. To my left is the Glen Iris Inn, and it’s a popular spot for weddings. The field behind me isn’t just for hot air balloons; they can accommodate a fairly large tent. You know the kind I’m talking about. Those massive white ones? Anyway—”

“Tell them about the rainbows,” Harry suggests, and Louis rolls his eyes. 

“Yes, Harold, it’s a rainbow paradise,” Louis says, again pointing at the falls behind Harry. “Depending on the angle of the sun, the mist from the falls can make a rainbow. It’s very pretty, and Harry got it in his head that someone should get married by the falls with the rainbow—not that anyone can guarantee the rainbow will show up—and then leave after the ceremony in a hot air balloon.”

“And the proposal!” 

“Oh my god, okay. Harry’s idea is for someone to propose in the hot air balloon, then to get married here as well—obviously not the same day—and then take another hot air balloon ride after the ceremony. Is that it?”

“You don’t have to be grumpy about it,” Harry says, obviously still recording. “It’s a good plan.”

“It is a good plan,” Louis agrees, though it’s hard to contain his irritation. “Sorry I’ve been grumpy. You know how it is when someone ruins your surprise.”

“What?”

“I sort of always wanted to propose in a hot air balloon, and now I feel like I can’t,” Louis says, though he wishes he kept his mouth shut, sometimes he has trouble with that around Harry. 

“Who are you proposing too?” Harry asks.

“Can you stop recording?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” Harry pockets the camera and asks again, “Who were you planning to propose to?”

“A fictional future boyfriend,” Louis says, starting towards the balloon, which is now fully inflated. 

When Harry falls into step beside him, he says, “Didn’t realize you thought about stuff like that.”

“I’m kind of a secret romantic, I guess,” Louis says with a shrug. “Just waiting for the right person.”

“Not Chad,” Harry says. 

“Not Chad,” Louis says. 

“Who’s the right person?” Harry asks, and Louis shakes his head, trying not to get annoyed. “I mean, like, what do you want them to be like?”

“I want them to be themselves, Harold,” Louis says, waving at the pilot as they approach the basket. Any other time he’d be thankful that their reservation is just for the two of them because it’ll make it much easier to talk to the camera, but now would be a good time for the distraction other people would bring. 

“That’s vague,” Harry says with a short laugh, and Louis catches a glimpse of him combing his fingers through his curls. 

“What do you want me to say, man?” Louis scoffs, turning to face Harry. “You’re the one with the boyfriend who wants to live with you. You’re the one headed that way. Towards happily ever after. Not me.”

“Sorry,” Harry says, untangling his sunglasses from his hair and putting them on. 

“It’s fine.”

“I just… I was just wondering, ’cause, like, you said you can’t get what you want, so I thought you’d have a checklist or something.”

Must be Harry Styles. Check. Louis shakes his head again, and lies, “It’s a song, Harry.”

“I know that,” Harry says, looking up at the gigantic balloon above them. “Sorry if I… I didn’t mean to piss you off.”

“I’m not mad at you,” Louis says. Frustrated, sure. Jealous every time he thinks about Bryan, yes. Dancing around the truth, he admits, “There’s a guy, but there are circumstances and… other things. It can’t happen.”

Chewing on his lower lip, Harry doesn’t speak, and it’s a little unnerving, not being able to see his eyes behind his sunglasses. 

“Alright, fellas,” the pilot says, saving the day. Louis makes a mental note to tip him all the cash in his wallet. 

They go over everything again, and climb into the basket, which feels much less sturdy than Louis expected. He closes his eyes, and wouldn’t have noticed when they left the ground, if not for Harry's squeak followed by a quiet gasp. 

“Oh, wow… It’s so gentle,” Louis says, fumbling for the camera in his pocket. He checks to see if Harry’s recording, but he’s not. Instead, he’s holding so tightly to the side of the basket that his knuckles are white, and Louis can see a slight tremble there. He leans in, whispering, “You okay?” 

“No,” Harry soundlessly mouths the word. 

Glancing at the pilot, who is too busy getting them off the ground and in the air to notice Harry's silent panic, Louis wraps his fingers around Harry's wrist. From the side, Louis can see Harry open his eyes. He drops his chin to his chest, takes a deep breath, and lets go of the basket with that hand, immediately lacing his fingers together with Louis’ and exhaling. 

“He okay?” The pilot asks, studying Harry curiously. 

“Harold?” Louis asks, squeezing his hand. 

Harry nods. “Yeah. For a second there I felt like… super weird. But I’m okay. Sorry.”

“It happens,” the pilot says. “Some people say takeoff feels like being inside a dream. It’s never what you expect it to be like.”

“It did kind of seem like a dream,” Harry says, wrinkling his nose. Color starts to crawl up his neck, and Louis figures he can safely let go of Harry’s hand, but when he tries, Harry holds on tight. 

The hot air balloon stays in the air for an hour, and Harry never lets go of his hand. 

On the ground and safe, they clamber out of the basket, and shortly after that, a Land Rover comes to meet them, and drives them back to the park. 

That night, Harry stays in the truck cab on the phone with Bryan for long enough that Louis starts to wonder if he’s planning to sleep up there. If it wasn’t for the constant rise and fall of Harry’s voice, Louis would probably be asleep himself. Thankfully, he’s still awake when the truck door shuts, and Harry climbs into the camper, sniffling. 

“You okay?” Louis asks, afraid that Harry might go into detail about another argument with Bryan, and he doesn’t want to hear it. 

“Yeah,” Harry says, wiping his eyes. “Bryan and I broke up.”

Louis’ heart soars and then plummets; he holds a hand to his chest. “Ahh, Harold, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Harry says, climbing into the makeshift dinette bed, and sitting with his back against the wall, wiggling his toes beneath the sheet. “Felt like it was coming for a while, but like, I don’t know. I didn’t want to be the one to do it, ’cause that was like, his main issue with this trip.”

“That you guys would break up?” Louis asks. 

Harry snorts quietly. “That I’d break up with him. He was pissed off that we shared a tent—”

“I didn’t know you told him that.”

“Yeah, I mean, I was telling him how scared I was of the bears, and he was like, making fun, I guess.” Harry sighs, folding his hands in his lap, and tipping his head back. Eyes focused on the ceiling, he continues, “So I said I was glad you were on the trip with me because you let me share your tent and he was all ‘Oh, I bet he liked that’ and I was like, ‘Louis was scared, too’ and Bryan was just being an asshole, but he eventually apologized.”

“Okay?” Louis asks, while ‘I bet he liked that’ echoes inside his head.

“I mean, not really. I told him how freaked out I was on the balloon ride tonight, and I said I didn’t know what I’d’ve done if you weren’t there to hold my hand, and like, I actually meant figuratively, you know? But apparently that was a step too far.”

“I thought you were going to pass out or something,” Louis says, rolling onto his side to face Harry. 

“Me too,” Harry whispers. He clears his throat, and says, “But Bryan, like, lost it. And I… I told him that was it. I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t trust me.”

“So you guys broke up because I held your hand?” Louis asks, trying to keep his voice light. Hopefully it comes across the way he intends. 

“In a way,” Harry says, giggling quietly. “It’s stupid, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Harold,” Louis says, reaching out for his hand. Scooting closer, Harry stretches across his bed and takes Louis’ hand; Louis drops it like he’s been burned. “Scandalous.”

Harry falls onto his back, laughing until Louis can’t help but join in. When they’re quiet again, Harry says, “Thanks, Lou. Like, for today in the balloon, but also for… for being you.”

“Can’t help that,” Louis says, flipping off the lights. “I am who I am.”

“Yeah, but I like who you are,” Harry whispers. “You’re a good person.”

“I like who you are, too, Harold,” Louis says. “Now, go to sleep.”

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fic post](https://kingsofeverything.tumblr.com/post/630877050004209664/by-kingsofeverything-with-fantastic-art-by)


	3. Chapter 3

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

When they arrive at Cook Forest State Park in Pennsylvania on Friday, they go straight to the arts and crafts center to watch the chainsaw carvers—which are a bit scary, and check out the theater—which is very cool, and then the craft market—where Louis buys a tiny, hand whittled wooden frog because it reminds him of Harry, but he keeps that reason to himself. Harry’s pretty quiet all day. 

On the way there, he spent a lot of time texting, and though he didn’t say who with, from the scowling, it was probably Bryan or something to do with him. That night they finish up the pasta Harry made a few days before, and Harry’s either asleep or pretending to be when Louis returns from the shower. He's curled up on his side, facing away. 

Saturday morning they drive four miles down the Clarion River, park the truck, and hike back up, before putting their kayak into the water. It’s one of the only times Louis would rather wear the GoPro on his head, since he’s already wearing a helmet. It’s early enough that they’re alone on the river at first, and are able to drag the kayak up the bank to record some of the birds and talk about their plans to hike to and climb the fire tower that afternoon. Just as they’re about to put the kayak back in the water, the sound of laughter drifts towards them, and Louis looks upriver to see a number of people floating in innertubes, letting the current carry them. 

“I’ve always wanted to try that!” Harry says, stepping into the water and steadying the kayak. He lifts his hand to shade his eyes, and smiles, and Louis already knows he’s going to do whatever he can to make it happen, even if they have to stay in Pennsylvania an extra day. That turns out not to be necessary. 

Back in the water, they’re virtually surrounded by innertubes, and Louis asks the first person they get close enough to for information. If they paddle fast enough, they’ll be able to make it to the reservation desk, and hopefully get a spot on the two o’clock float, as it’s called. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣ 

When they pull the kayak out of the river near where they parked the truck that morning, Louis’ arms are killing him, he’s exhausted from being in the sun and water all day so far, and he agrees to try tubing only if he doesn’t have to actively participate. 

“Harold, look at me!” Louis shouts, and Harry, laying in his innertube in front of him, lets his head fall back, wet curls dangling off his head, trailing in the water. Dimples deep in his cheeks, Harry grins at him upside down, arms splayed out to the side, legs stuck straight out in front of him, feet in the air. Louis takes his picture, even though he knows the GoPro on his helmet is recording Harry's every move. 

Harry paddles against the current with his hands, sitting up and spinning his tube around, so he’s still looking at Louis. When he’s close enough, he reaches out and Louis takes his hand, pulling until their innertubes bump. With a hold on the handle of Louis’ innertube, Harry lays back down so they're side by side, but facing opposite directions. 

“Having fun?” Harry asks, flicking a few drops of water onto Louis’ arm. 

“Yeah, I am,” Louis says, and splashes Harry right in the face, making his sputter. 

“I’m not even mad,” Harry says, still holding tight to Louis’ innertube while he wipes the water from his eyes with his free hand. “Thanks for letting me do this.”

Scoffing, Louis splashes him again, but aims for his legs. “Letting you do this.” 

“Agreeing to do this with me,” Harry says. 

“I didn’t want to hike anymore today, anyway,” Louis says, grabbing the handle on Harry’s innertube, so they’re both holding on. “I’m officially done with the Appalachian Mountains until we hit them again on the way back east.” 

“Okay,” Harry says quietly, and Louis peeks at him, barely opening his eyes behind his sunglasses. “This is a good send off to the northeast.”

“Agreed,” Louis says. “I’m looking forward to the Great Lakes. I’ve never seen any of them.”

“Really? We were so close in New York. We could’ve just… swung by.”

“I don’t think ‘swinging by’ the Great Lakes is a thing,” Louis says, holding back a laugh. “What would we do, drive up, say hello, then be on our way?”

“Just drive by, no need to stop,” Harry says, giggling before he gets his words out. 

“A lot of what we’re going to be doing is new to me,” Louis says. “I’ve never been to most of the Midwest states. Or the south, really. Okay, most of the states, period.”

“There’s more you haven’t seen than you have?” Harry asks. 

“Exactly,” Louis says, letting go of Harry’s innertube so he can make finger guns with both hands. 

“Me, too,” Harry says, and pushes away from Louis. They float the rest of the way downriver without talking much, except when Louis splashes Harry to make sure he isn’t asleep. 

The tubing trip takes four hours, so when they pull their innertubes out of the river, it’s after six o’clock in the evening, and they have to ride back with the rest of the tubing and kayaking customers in an old school bus with no air conditioning. By the time they get back to the camper, it’s past seven, and while they probably smelled like river water before their sweaty bus trip back, they need showers before they can do anything else. 

Wrapping up their third week, Louis is accustomed to campsite showers. It doesn’t mean he likes having to walk back and forth, especially when it’s so hot out that he’s sweaty again before he gets back to the camper. At least with a proper electrical hookup, they’re able to have the air conditioner running, and it’s not terribly hot inside the camper. 

“Oh my god,” Harry says, hanging his shower bag and kicking off his flip flops before climbing right into the bed over the cab, and starfishing across the mattress on his stomach, wearing nothing but a pair of basketball shorts. “I’m so tired. I don’t feel like cooking. Can we just eat sandwiches?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Louis says from his spot stretched out on the dinette bench behind the table. “Kind of want pizza.”

“We could try cast iron pan pizzas,” Harry says, voice muffled by the pillow. “I mean, like, next time we get groceries. We could buy the ingredients. I don’t know how hard that would be though.”

Louis blows a raspberry, and says, “I want, like, Domino’s.”

“I don’t think we can get pizza delivered here,” Harry says, rolling onto his back. 

“Let’s go get it,” Louis says, suddenly full of just enough energy to drive as far as he needs to go to find pizza. He grabs his phone to check, and the nearest Domino’s Pizza is about a half-hour away. “Come on. Get some clothes on. We’ll go pick it up.”

Sitting up and hunching over so he doesn’t hit his head on the ceiling, Harry asks, “Really?”

“Yeah, man,” Louis finds a pair of his Vans in the little cabinet under the dinette bench and slips them on, tugging a t-shirt over his head. “I’ll go disconnect the electric.”

A few minutes later, they’re on the road. Harry calls their order in so it’s ready when they get there, and they can’t help but eat some on the drive back. It was definitely worth the extra hour of driving. Sitting at their little camper table, they finish most of the pizza, leaving two slices for breakfast. 

“Thanks, Lou,” Harry says, after they brush their teeth and climb into bed. 

Louis blinks up at the ceiling in the dark. “For what?”

“Pizza!” Harry laughs, and says, “Thanks for not making me cook. I could’ve kissed you when I realized you were seriously going to drive us to pick up pizza.”

“I’m sure you’re a horrible kisser, Harold,” Louis says, cheeks heating. Harry’s probably a wonderful kisser. Those lips have to be good for some— Louis stops his train of thought and shakes his head. “But you’re welcome anyway.”

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

Whenever they run the air conditioner at night, Louis wakes up to the sound of the thermostat switching off, which is a small price to pay to actually sleep instead of miserably stewing in a pool of his own sweat all night. Usually, he goes right back to sleep. Tonight, in the stillness and silence, he hears something that keeps him from drifting off. 

At first, he thinks Harry's having a bad dream or that he’s awake and upset about Bryan or something. It takes him a moment to realize what the sounds mean, and once he does, his eyes fly open before he can think to keep them closed. He gets his bearings. He’s on the dinette bed, on his side, unfortunately not facing the wall which would completely hide his face, but it’s dark and if Harry could tell he was awake, he’d stop. Probably. 

Up on the bed, Harry’s about two feet above him, and with the way Louis is laying with his feet closer to that end of the camper, he’s in the perfect position to see Harry's body in profile when his eyes adjust to the darkness. On his back, Harry's knees are bent, feet planted on the mattress. The thin blanket and sheet are pulled up to his chest, forming a tent over him, and hiding most of his movements. 

It’s still obvious that he’s getting himself off. The blanket doesn’t conceal Harry's shifting shoulder as he strokes his cock. Louis closes his eyes tightly, listening to Harry's quiet gasps interspersed with silence, as if he’s holding his breath in between. 

Three weeks of living with Harry in less than a hundred square feet, of showering in narrow camp stalls, of using park restrooms, and Louis hasn’t had a single orgasm. Granted, he’s been fucking tired. Every night, he goes to bed worn out from the day’s activities. They’ve been going nonstop since they left DC and it’s not supposed to slow down for another twelve weeks. He hasn’t had the time or energy to be horny, let alone do anything about it. Even if he had the urge, he definitely wouldn’t do it where Harry might see or hear. When he was in college, he never did it in the showers, choosing to masturbate in his dorm, in his bed, under the blanket, only when he knew his roommate wasn’t going to be around for a long while. 

Now, at what he guesses is around two in the morning, he’s got a boner from listening to Harry. No way is Louis about to touch himself. He opens his eyes, embarrassed just thinking about Harry realizing he’s awake. The thought of Harry seeing him… Finding Louis watching him… No, thank you. 

Harry's breath catches, and he whines quietly, covering his mouth with his free hand, as his hips buck hard enough for Louis to see his shadow move. Then he stills, and Louis is curious what he’ll do now. If Harry planned ahead for cleaning up afterwards, or if he’s lying there, come cooling on his skin, trying to decide what to do. 

Slowly, Harry pushes the blanket off and Louis closes his eyes again, pretending to be asleep, paying attention to his breathing. His mind follows Harry as he carefully climbs down and finds the roll of paper towels in the kitchen cabinet, wiping himself off. He quietly washes his hands and puts the damp and dirty paper towels in the little trash bag they keep under the sink. 

After Harry's back in bed, laying on his side and facing the back wall of the camper, Louis wonders if this is the first time or just the first time Louis happened to wake up. Harry shifts slightly, sniffling, and Louis lifts his head. He sniffs again, and a moment later his snores are the only sound in the camper. The air conditioning kicks on, and Louis falls into a fitful sleep. 

In the morning, he wakes up hard and somewhat annoyed. He pulls on a shirt, tucks his dick behind the waistband of his shorts and hurries to the bathrooms, hoping they’ll be empty. Thankfully, they are. Locking himself in a stall, he jerks off as fast as he can, eyes closed and picturing Harry the previous night, shadow moving as he brought himself off. Louis bites his wrist when he comes into his hand, grunting as the pain mixes with the pleasure. He cleans up with toilet paper and flushes away the evidence, washing his hands twice before heading back to the camper. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

They end week three with a five hour drive to Kelleys Island State Park in Ohio. An actual island in Lake Erie that they have to take a ferry over to, and which Louis thought Harry would be excited to visit, but he spends those days seemingly going through the motions. They hike and swim and see the glacial grooves and petroglyphs and record what they need to send to Niall, but he’s fairly quiet otherwise. 

At first, Louis thinks it has something to do with what happened that last night in Pennsylvania, like he knows that Louis woke up and watched him, but Harry doesn’t strike him as embarrassed. That first night in Ohio, when Louis climbs beneath the sheets, knowing what Harry was doing under them the night before, Harry stills, keeping his eyes on him, as if he’s waiting to see if Louis notices something’s amiss. Or maybe Louis’ imagination is getting away from him. 

An entire week goes by with Harry acting oddly. Louis keeps expecting him to snap out of it, but they go from Ohio to Indiana and from Indiana to Illinois, seeing things that Louis thought Harry would love, with subdued reactions from Harry every time. When they leave the Mississippi Palisades State Park in Illinois the following Saturday with only an hour drive to their next destination, and Harry doesn’t celebrate the short trip, Louis decides he’s had enough. 

They’re still close enough to DC that they could feasibly make it back in one very long drive. And they discussed it before they made the final decision to take the trip: if one of them needed a break and wanted to stop somewhere and rest for a few days, or if either of them wanted to cut the trip short and return home for any reason, they’d do it. 

Just before they arrive at Magquoketa Caves State Park in Iowa, Louis says, “I was thinking about laundry.”

“Yeah,” Harry says slowly, turning to look at him. “What about it?”

“Do you want to stop now or Monday when we leave for Wisconsin or do you want to just go home and do it there?” Louis asks, unable to keep the snarkiness out of his tone. 

“What?” 

“You have to talk to me, Harry. We’re a team, and you’ve been just… absent for a week. What’s going on?” Louis asks, trying to focus on the road. “Are you mad at me? Do you want to go home so you can work things out with Bryan?”

Harry scoffs loudly, shaking his head. “No.”

“No, you’re not mad at me or…”

“No! I’m not mad at you. You haven’t done anything wrong. And, no, I don’t want to get back together with Bryan. I don’t want to go home. I… I’m sorry I’ve been sort of disconnected. I’ve been thinking a lot, I guess.”

“No more thinking, Harold,” Louis says, taking a relieved breath. “Or you’ll ruin our trip. How much brain power do you need to decide: laundry now or later?”

“Laundry now,” Harry says, looking at his phone for a moment. “There’s one ten minutes from the park, and right around the corner from a grocery store. I can drop you off at the laundromat if you promise not to shove everything in one giant machine.”

“I’m not an animal,” Louis says, reaching over and nudging Harry’s shoulder with his knuckle. “Tell me where to turn to get to the laundromat.”

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

“Such a tiny park for so many caves,” Harry says, adjusting the straps of his backpack, and lining up the GoPro. The park really is small, with only seven miles of trails, but there are more than a dozen caves to explore. 

“Dancehall,” Louis says, shaking his bum as they walk up to the cave’s entrance. “Okay, Harold. Ready?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, taking off his sunglasses. When Louis turns on his camera, he nods, and Harry clears his throat. “Today we’re in Iowa, checking out the Maquoketa Caves State Park. I’m really excited. Always wanted to go spelunking and—”

Louis snorts. “Spelunking.”

“That’s what it’s called, Lou,” Harry says, propping his hands on his hips. 

“Sometimes things shouldn’t have names,” Louis says. 

“Whatever,” Harry says, rolling his eyes, and continuing. “We’re _spelunking_ today, and starting with the Upper, Middle, and Lower Dancehall caves. Those three are the big ones, so we’re going to _spelunk_ them today, and _spelunk_ the other ten caves tomorrow.”

Letting loose a dramatic groan, Louis says, “No more spelunking. Talk about the dances.”

“Supposedly,” Harry says, straightening his posture and clasping his hands behind his back. “Before this was a park, people used to have dances—with live music—in these caves, and that’s where the name comes from. But as far as I know, that’s just a story.” 

“Anything else?” Louis asks, pointing to his camera. 

“Yes!” Clapping his hands once, Harry says, “If you’re watching, you might notice that we’re wearing long pants today. We will tomorrow, too. Today, because the Dancehall Caves are fairly large, we aren’t likely to have to crawl on the ground, though I know there are parts where we won’t be able to stand up. But tomorrow, we’re going _spelunking_ in the other caves, some of which are very small. The pants will hopefully protect us from scrapes when we’re _spelunking.”_

“Also, it’s cold in some of the caves,” Louis adds. 

“That, too,” Harry says, nodding at the camera. “It’s in the eighties during the day here in June, but some of the caves will be much cooler, probably low fifties? We’ll find out. But for now, we’re going into the Upper Dancehall Cave, where they have lighted concrete walkways.”

Louis turns off his camera and slips it in Harry’s backpack. “Spelunk away, Harold.”

“Why do you always call me Harold?” Harry asks, bumping Louis with his elbow. “I know you know it’s not my name.”

“You’re asking me this after three years? Same reason I call Niall Neil,” Louis explains, though he thought it was understood. It’s been three years, after all. He leads the way into the cave, but then stops, remembering Harry's comment at the Flume Gorge about his ass being the star of the show. Waiting for Harry, Louis waves him on, and follows. 

“So, I’m not special?” Harry asks with a pout. 

“Not at all,” Louis says, heaving a dramatic sigh. “Just like everyone else, Harold. Absolutely boring being around you. Can’t believe they sent us on this trip together. Might as well be by myself.” 

Harry frowns, the line between his eyebrows deepening. _“You’re_ boring.”

“And proud of it,” Louis says, voice echoing off the cave walls. “Whoa.”

“Spelunking!” Harry's deep voice bounces back at them, and he giggles. 

“You know I’m joking, right?” Louis ducks down as the cave ceiling gets lower. “Anyone else I would’ve murdered by now. You’re probably the only person I’d be willing to do this with. Niall’s gas is bad enough in our apartment.”

“I have gas,” Harry says, and Louis laughs. “What? I do. I fart all the time.”

Louis pushes past him, still snickering. “Wait until you live with Niall. You’ll see.”

“You think you’ll still want to live with me after this?” Harry asks, bent almost in half to fit through to the next part of the cave. 

“Don’t see why not,” Louis says with a shrug. “You may not want to live with me when this is all over.”

Upper Dancehall Cave is massive. So huge, in fact, that Louis sends Harry to stand on one end while he stands on the other. That way they can get video and pictures to show the scale of the place because it doesn’t seem like it’ll translate on camera. 

Despite the concrete walkways, by the time they finish going through all three caves, they’re both muddy and ready to call it a day. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣ 

“What do you think, Harold?” Louis asks, kicking the truck tire to try to knock some of the dirt from his boots. “Small to large? Large to small? Numerical order?”

Harry frowns at the map in his hands, tracing over it with his fingertip. “I want to start with Wide Mouth Cave.”

“Ahh… Your home turf.”

“Fuck off, Lewis,” Harry says, not looking up.

Louis gasps, clutching his hand to his chest. “I see how it is.”

“Niall, Neil. Harry, Harold. Louis, Lewis,” Harry sings, glancing up quickly. “Huey Lewis and the News! My mom loves them.”

“We can listen to the entire _Back to the Future_ soundtrack on the way to Wisconsin tomorrow,” Louis says, stepping closer so he can see the map. “Wide Mouth Cave and then we’ll work our way down?”

“Yeah, because the smallest ones, or like, the ones that’ll probably be harder to spelunk, are down here,” Harry explains, not over-enunciating spelunk, as if Louis is going to let it pass. “And I want to end with the Ice Cave.”

“Spelunk,” Louis says, jabbing his index finger into Harry’s armpit and making him howl with laughter. “I fucking Googled it, you know. They call it potholing in the UK, but you could just call it caving or, I don’t know, exploring.”

“I like spelunking!” Harry jerks away from Louis’ hands, but doesn’t go far enough that Louis can’t immediately tickle him again. 

While he pokes Harry in the ribs, Louis says, “I bet you do, you weirdo. Should’ve been a speleologist.”

Harry grabs Louis' wrists and holds them above his head. “Is that a real thing?”

“Yeah,” Louis says, twisting and freeing his hands from Harry’s grip. That Harry easily releases him, and that Louis would've had to struggle if he held tight, sends a shiver up his spine. “Told you I Googled.”

“I don’t know if I like spelunking enough to do it for a living,” Harry says, “but I’ll think about it.”

“You can’t leave me alone at Tellurian International,” Louis says quickly, as if Harry’s actually going to quit and go back to school to study caves. “Do you know how lucky we are to sit across from each other? Before you came to work there, I had to sit across from Dwight.”

“Dwight? Like, from _The Office?”_

“Oh, no, he was much, much worse,” Louis says, though Dwight wasn’t all that bad. He was just dull, and never offered to fill Louis’ water bottle when he filled his own, and never brought homemade cupcakes to work. And, of course, he wasn’t Harry. “Point is, if you leave Tellurian International, you have to take me with you.”

“You know, if we didn’t work together, we…” Harry tucks the map into his pocket, and scratches the back of his neck. “We’d probably never see each other.”

“Not true,” Louis says. “We’ll be roommates, remember?”

“Only if you’re not sick of me when we finish this trip.”

“I don’t know why you say shit like that, man,” Louis says, shoving Harry’s shoulder to get him started up the path. And as close as it is to the truth, he adds, “I _like_ you.”

Harry grins, bumping their hips together. “You’re, like, a really great friend, you know?”

“Enough of that,” Louis says, needing to change the subject. While Harry’s been one of his good friends for years, since Harry started dating Bryan almost two years ago, they haven’t hung out much outside of work. Yes, they’d eat lunch together every day, and yes, they work closely, but he’s always tried to keep his distance emotionally. “No more feelings while we’re spelunking. I might get confused.”

“Confused?” Harry asks, confused. 

Nodding, Louis repeats, “Confused.”

Wide Mouth Cave is exactly what Louis would’ve expected, if he’d expected anything at all. It looks like a big, wide mouth, but it’s rather shallow. They’ll have to crawl to get inside it, and Louis sighs, digging the GoPro and head strap out of his backpack to put it on. There’s no way the backpack strap camera will work in little caves like this. 

“Glad we wore long pants,” Harry says a little while later, inching his way backwards out of the Dug Out Cave. 

Brushing dirt from his hands, Louis says, “Haven't spent this much time on my hands and knees in years.”

“Ow!” Harry yells, sucking air through his teeth as he finally crawls the rest of the way out of the cave. He rubs his head, scowling at Louis. “You made me hit my head.”

“I didn’t make you do shit, Harold,” Louis says with a laugh. 

Narrowing his eyes, Harry says, “The hands and knees joke. I hit my head on a stalagmite.”

“Stalactite?”

“Whatever! The ceiling one,” Harry says, still rubbing the back of his head. 

“What kind of spelunker doesn’t know the difference?” Louis asks, jumping back out of Harry’s reach. He winks, and says, “And I wasn’t joking.”

Spinning around, Louis takes off down the path. Normally, he tries to curb his flirting with Harry, but apparently his brain has other ideas. 

The Up N Down Cave has a tiny entrance that looks like a hole in the rock, and Louis wonders what the person who first climbed into it was thinking. Maybe they were hiding from a bear. He shudders at the memory of the fear he felt sleeping in the tent and knows for sure he’d try to hide in a hole in a rock if need be. 

“Come down!” Louis calls up to Harry after he climbs in the cave, who’s leaning over the cave entrance, shining his flashlight inside. “It’s bigger on the inside!”

“Okay, Doctor Who,” Harry says, swinging his long legs over the ledge and into the cave. 

Louis steps aside, letting Harry find his own way down, and exploring farther into the cave. On the other side of the cave wall, he can stand up fully. 

“It’s pretty big,” Louis says when he sees Harry's feet hit the floor of the cave entrance. “Come in here, Harold. Talk to the camera.”

As soon as Harry’s standing, his flashlight pointing at his own face like he’s telling ghost stories, Louis does his best to aim the camera on his head at him, and Harry says, “Up N Down Cave is exactly what it says on the tin. Although, maybe it should be called the Down N Up Cave. Because you go down first, and then up.”

“Makes sense,” Louis says with a nod. He stops himself and holds his head still. “Oops. Sorry.”

“This is a pretty cool cave, and you’re right. It’s definitely bigger on the inside.”

Climbing back up isn't as easy, but they haul themselves out, and dust themselves off, and keep going. 

“Think we’re going to have to go to the Ice Cave now instead of later,” Harry says, pointing to the left path. “It’s right there. Then we go the other way, hit Shinbone Cave and Wye Cave, and back to the camper.”

The Ice Cave is freezing. Louis says as much to the camera and Harry laughs at him. 

“It’s not that cold, Lou.” Rolling his eyes, Harry makes that same face that inspired Louis to buy the whittled wooden frog figuring, and says, “Didn’t know you were such a baby. Would’ve told you to pack a jacket.”

Arms crossed tight, Louis gives him the finger, and says, “I’m sensitive to the cold. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Do you need a cuddle?” Harry asks, holding his arms out and wiggling his fingers at Louis. 

“Fuck off,” Louis says, though he wouldn’t mind. Harry gives off heat like a furnace. “Just… Let me finish, and we can get out of here.” 

As soon as they record a little more, they leave the Ice Cave, and when they’re back out in the midday heat, Harry asks, “Better?”

Louis shoves him off the path.

Shin Bone Cave has a set of steps leading up to it, and directly in front of them is a wide opening in the rock. 

“There’s nothing here,” Harry says, clearly annoyed. “Does this even count as a cave?”

Pointing to a smaller opening in the rock off to the side, Louis squats down. “What about that?” 

“Maybe?” Harry kneels in front of it, shining his flashlight inside. “I think… Yeah, I think this is it.”

“Can you fit?” Louis asks, peering over his shoulder. “It’s so small.”

Harry snorts, looking back over his shoulder. “Actually never heard that one before.”

“You know what?” Undoing the straps holding the GoPro to his head, Louis says, “Just for that, you wear this and go first.”

With the GoPro strapped to his head, Harry won’t have to hold his flashlight. He crawls forward, while Louis waits. 

“Don’t get stuck,” Louis warns, leaning against the rock, and watching Harry inch his way into the cave. 

“It’s okay. Hold on… I can pull myself…” Harry slowly enters the cave, dropping down head first. “I’m in! You can come in, Lou.”

Harry holds his flashlight, illuminating the few feet in front of Louis as he climbs over the slippery rocks, down into the cave. Once inside, he crawls under another rocky overhang into the roomier part of the cave where he and Harry can both stand up. Though that’s about all they can do. 

“Is this it?” Louis asks. 

“Think so,” Harry says, shining his light on the ceiling of the cave. “This one’s worse than Up N Down.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty small and—”

“You think people have fucked in here?” Harry asks.

“Harold!” Louis presses his fingertips to his temples. “I’m climbing out.”

“It’s a valid question,” Harry says, following Louis back under the rock overhang. 

“Yes, I’m sure they have,” Louis says, fighting the blush crawling up his neck. He brushes a spider off his hand and starts to pull himself out of the cave. “People will fuck anywhere, just to say they’ve done it.”

“Seems kind of cramped in here though,” Harry says, as if he’s actually considering the logistics of cave sex. “I guess handjobs would count.”

Out of the cave, Louis opens his water bottle and chugs it. “I doubt there’s some list of requirements for— I take that back. I’m _sure_ that somewhere there’s a list of requirements for cave sex.”

“Yeah, but they’re probably written by straight people, so it’s like penetration and maybe blowjobs,” Harry says, pursing his lips. Louis walks away, but Harry hurries to keep up with him, smirking as he asks, “What?”

With both hands, Louis grabs Harry’s cheeks, aiming the camera at his face. “Niall, I’m sorry. If Harry doesn’t make it back to DC, at least you know why.”

“You can’t murder me, Lou,” Harry says, wrapping his fingers around Louis’ wrists and pulling his hands down. 

“Why not?” Louis asks, wrenching his arms out of Harry’s grip.

Harry shrugs and says, “Everyone will know it was you.”

It’s a short walk to the last cave, and Louis is happy to see a large opening in the rock. As soon as he gets close enough to see under the dark ledge, he frowns. The large opening is just an overhang. The actual cave entrance is small, but not as small as the Up N Down Cave or Shinbone Cave. 

“Damn it,” Louis says, digging the other GoPro and headstrap out of his backpack. “You know someone got stuck in here a few years ago.”

“Let me go first this time,” Harry says, stepping down into the jagged hole in the rock. “I’m bigger than you, so if I don’t think I can get through, we won’t try it.”

“Be careful, Harold,” Louis says, watching him climb down. “I don’t want to wind up on the news.”

Harry climbs down until Louis can barely make out the top of his head, then he looks up, shining his headlamp in Louis’ face. “Come down! Be careful. The rocks are slippery.”

The rocks really are slippery, though it hasn’t rained since they’ve been there. If he didn’t have on long pants, his knees would already be beat up from crawling around all day, but he’s extra thankful when his foot slides out from under him and he hits his shin on the rock wall. 

“Shit!” Louis hisses, moving even slower to go the last few feet. “That’s going to bruise.”

He leans down and can see Harry standing off to the side. It’s dim, but there’s a bit of sunlight and with their flashlights, it’s not too dark. Finally, his feet find the floor of the cave, and he brushes the mud from his hands. 

“Okay, it keeps going,” Harry says, sitting and starting to climb further down into the cave.

“Fuck me,” Louis mutters to himself, squatting down, and following Harry. As he moves down, the cavern expands, and it’s more of a careful walk instead of a climb. “It’s wet. And cold. Harold, I’m not thrilled here.”

From ahead, he can hear Harry chuckling quietly. “Come on. You have to crawl under this, like, tunnel thing, and then it’s bigger. Leave your backpack.”

Crawling would be easier. Louis has to get down on his belly and slither like a snake to get through to the other side. When he’s finally able to stand up again, he’s soaked with mud. 

“There’s another opening,” Harry says, shining his flashlight at an even smaller opening in the cave wall. “You think that’s where they got stuck?”

“Maybe. It’s supposed to be, like, a long tunnel, and I’m not up for that,” Louis admits. They’re pretty far underground now, not that he can measure the distance, but if they were to turn off their cameras and flashlights, it’d be pitch black. Enclosed spaces have never been an issue for Louis before, but the longer they stay underground, the more he wishes they were on the path back to the camper. Or better yet, to the showers. “Let’s record real quick and get the fuck out of here.”

“Right. Go ahead, mine’s running,” Harry says, tapping the camera on his head. 

“Okay, so, this is Wye Cave, and we’ve just climbed inside, which hopefully you can see from our videos. If not, blame Niall. It’s pretty cool down here. And damp. And as you can probably see, I’m covered in mud.” Louis wipes his hands on his shirt and holds them up for the camera. “About eight years ago, some people got stuck down here, which is why—Wye—we aren’t going any farther. There’s a tunnel, and it’s pretty narrow, and from what we’ve read, there’s a bend in it that my bum might not fit through. So this is the end of the line. We’re about to climb back out.”

“You want me to go first again?” Harry asks, getting down on his knees in front of the short tunnel that Louis just came through.

“Yeah, but I’m right behind you,” Louis says, shivering in the cold air. 

As soon as Harry’s feet are out of view and Louis is pretty sure he won’t get kicked in the face, he lays down on his stomach and starts to make his way out. It’s a tight fit, and possibly because he just spent five minutes wishing he wasn’t underground, it feels a bit tighter. He knows that’s the way it goes. A person’s body isn’t the same shape going in the opposite direction. It’s why babies are usually born head first. He wiggles forward, headlamp shining on Harry’s hiking boots, until Harry stands, free on the other side of the cave wall. 

“Wait for me, Harold,” Louis says, panting a bit from the exertion of pulling himself through the small tunnel. 

The second his head, arms, and shoulders are out, he takes a deep breath, and heaves himself forward. Except he only moves a few inches, and his ass scrapes against the rock. 

“Fuck, no,” Louis says, taking another breath, exhaling, and flattening his body as much as he can. He grips the outside edge of the tunnel, closes his eyes and, shoulders burning with the effort, tries to propel himself towards Harry.

“Are you stuck?” Harry asks, short laugh bouncing off the cave walls. 

Ignoring him, and reminding himself not to panic, Louis shifts his legs to the side, and tries again. He doesn’t move at all, and the rock digs into his skin. 

“Wait, are you really stuck?” Harry asks, voice suddenly soft and quiet as he drops to his knees in front of Louis. 

“Yes,” Louis says, letting his arms relax for a moment before he tries again.

Harry leans sideways, shining his headlamp into the passageway. “Okay, move to the left. My left!”

“Left,” Louis repeats, digging the toes of his boots into the mud and trying to use them to leverage his body sideways. It doesn’t seem to work, and when he tries to move forward again, and can’t, his already racing heart threatens to leave him on the cave floor. “Don’t panic. Don’t panic.”

“Shh…” Harry whispers, rubbing Louis’ upper arms and pulling them away from the wall. “Relax, Lou. You’re tensing up. Breathe, okay?”

Louis nods, taking a measured breath, but it doesn’t stop his stomach from clenching. 

“What’s stuck? Your boot?” Harry asks. 

“Don’t laugh,” Louis says instead of answering. 

“I won’t. Promise.”

“My ass is, like… There’s one part of the rock that hangs lower on the left. On my left. I should’ve gone further right.”

“You think you’re just too close to the side?” Harry asks, peering into the little tunnel. “Maybe you could back up and try again.”

Louis shakes his head. “Maybe. Give me a second.”

“No rush, Lou,” Harry says, moving to sit cross legged on the muddy cave floor. He combs his dirty fingers through his hair, bouncing his knee, and then takes one of Louis’ hands, rubbing his thumb over his scraped up knuckles. The touch helps calm Louis, and he breathes easier. 

“Okay,” Louis says, nodding once. “I’m going.”

Wiggling backwards through the tunnel is almost scarier than being stuck, except that a moment later he’s able to get out and stand up in the cavern. He stretches his arms up, and cranes around to look at his bum. It’s dirty and the left pocket is torn, but when he squeezes it, it feels fine, so no bruising. Yet. 

“Louis?” Harry's voice echoes through the passageway and light from his flashlight shines on Louis’ shoes. 

Back down on his knees, Louis peers at him. “Here I come.”

This time, instead of just following Harry’s feet, Louis takes a good look at the little tunnel first, and he can see where he went wrong. He did wind up pressed against the side wall. Sticking close to the middle, he inches his way through the cold, wet mud on his stomach, pulling himself out the other side easily. 

The second he’s standing again, he’s almost knocked over by the force of Harry’s hug. Their muddy shirts stick together, but Harry's warm, and Louis is safe. 

“Don’t tell anyone my ass got stuck in a cave, Harold,” Louis says, voice shaking a bit. He snatches his backpack off the ground and slips it on, hoping Harry won’t notice his trembling hands in the dim light. 

“You’ll have to delete the video,” Harry says, pointing to the camera on his head. 

Louis closes his eyes. At least he didn’t wind up on the news. He looks at the camera, and says, “Niall, I know where you sleep.”

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣ 

When they leave the next morning for Wisconsin, it’s Monday, June twenty-second, the first day of week five. They’ve officially been at this for a month. 

“Excited to see _the_ Green Bay?” Louis asks when they get off the interstate.

“Yeah,” Harry says, sighing quietly. “I thought it’d be colder.”

“It’s the end of June, Harold,” Louis says, laughing and rolling his eyes. 

Harry scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest and looking out the window. _“You’re_ the end of June.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Green Bay is supposed to be cold,” Harry insists.

Keeping his eyes on the road, Louis reaches over and pinches the back of Harry’s arm. “Not in summer!”

“Whatever.”

“You’re really pissed at the weather?” Louis asks.

“No, just disappointed. I wanted to have a fire.”

“Maybe if our series does well they’ll ship us off to Alaska,” Louis says. If his calculations are correct, three episodes should be up on YouTube, and according to Niall, it’s becoming more popular each week. 

“Did you know that people ship us?” Harry asks.

Quickly glancing over, Louis asks, “To Alaska?” 

“No, like ‘ship’ us.” Air quotes don’t make it any clearer, but Louis feels his cheeks start to heat when Harry explains, “Like how some people want Captain America and Bucky Barnes to be together.”

“How do you know that?” Louis asks, not sure he wants the answer, but curious what Harry thinks.

Harry hums, sucking his lower lip into his mouth, and Louis looks away, changing lanes for no reason other than he needs the distraction. “Bryan told me.”

“You talked to him?” Louis asks, cringing at his jealous tone of voice. 

“No, like, before. It was one of the reasons he was so mad,” Harry says, playing with the air vent and tugging on the hem of his shorts. “I told him we weren’t watching the videos or reading the comments, so I didn’t know what he was talking about, but yeah. They call us Larry Stylinson.”

“Oh, that’s a good name. Much better than Bennifer.” Louis says, trying to make light of it, though he feels an odd sense of discomfort at the thought of people who don't know him thinking about his love life. His nonexistent love life. “It’s not a big deal, is it?”

“Not really. Bryan wanted me to have the comments deleted, but I told him to fuck off.”

“As long as it doesn’t bother you, Harold. Larold. Larold Stylinson.”

Harry snorts, flicking his fingertip against Louis’ ear. “That sounds stupid.”

Shrugging his shoulder to cover his ear, Louis says, “It’s your name, Larold.”

“It’s not,” Harry says, faking like he’s going to flick Louis’ ear again, but when Louis lifts his arm to protect himself, Harry yanks some of his armpit hair.

“Ouch!” Louis smacks Harry’s hand, but it doesn’t stop him from giggling. “You’re going to cause an accident.”

“Watersports,” Harry says, and Louis blushes. 

“A car accident,” Louis says, though Harry probably can’t hear him over his own honking laugh. He reaches over, grabbing a handful of Harry’s messy curls, and pulls. Instantly, Harry goes quiet and still. “Behave.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry says, and Louis can’t help but laugh at how serious he sounds. He loosens his grip on Harry's hair and scratches his scalp, hoping to soothe the sting.

When Harry doesn’t speak again, Louis asks, “You’re sure you don’t want Niall to delete those comments?”

Shaking his head, Harry says, “No. Like you said, it’s not a big deal.”

It is a big deal, but only because it makes Louis wonder what makes people want to ship them in the first place. If his feelings for Harry are obvious to the world at large, he’s in trouble. Maybe he should talk to Niall.

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

Louis chooses not to talk to Niall. Instead, after they set up at Peninsula State Park, he sends him a text. Texting Niall when Louis knows he’s at his desk is best because he always responds immediately.

**LOUIS:** _Why do people ship me and Harry?_

**NIALL:** _Have you been reading your comments?_

**LOUIS:** _No. Bryan said something to Harry_

**NIALL:** _Bryan spoils everything_

**LOUIS:** _I know. He’s a dickhead. Harry broke up with him_

**NIALL:** _Did he?????_

**LOUIS:** _Yeah because he was super jealous of ME and might have accused Harry of cheating idk for sure but lol what an idiot_

**NIALL:** _Right and you don’t have a three year long crush on H_

**LOUIS:** _Fuck off_

**NIALL:** _People ship you guys because you flirt with each other constantly_

**LOUIS:** _We do not_

**NIALL:** _Do too. Harry’s worse than you_

**LOUIS:** _Ridiculous, Neil. Time to go bike around the park. Let me know when you get to our Iowa footage_

Louis pockets his phone before Niall can respond. “Ready, Harold?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, pulling his bucket hat down to shade his eyes. “Let’s go.”

Their campsite is located in the southwest corner of the park on Weborg Point, so they start out going north on the gravel bike path. Tentative plans include visiting Eagle Bluff Lighthouse, but with the number of bike trails, they’re likely to ride everywhere they go, which will be a nice break from hiking. Louis’ shin is bruised from slipping on his way down into Wye Cave, and his knees and knuckles are scraped up worse than when he was a kid. Thankfully his ass isn’t sore from getting stuck, or his bike seat would be uncomfortable. 

As they pass Tennison Bay and the kayak launch area, Louis opens his mouth to ask Harry if he wants to go out on the water, but Harry yells over him, “Look at that!” 

Past the kayaks and canoes are a few people riding what look like floating bicycles. 

“You want to try it?” Louis asks, shading his eyes and squinting. Definitely floating bicycles. 

“Yeah, tomorrow,” Harry says with a grin. “If it sucks, we can kayak.”

It’s bound to be interesting. It doesn’t seem possible to bike on water and not fall over, even with what look like large pontoons on either side. 

After circling around the gravel bike path, they head back to the camper to make dinner. And once they eat and Louis finishes cleaning up, he says, “Shoes on, Harold. Want to see something before we shower.”

Harry doesn’t question what, just follows Louis’ lead, slides on his flip flops, and grabs his shower bag. Past the showers, Louis crosses a parking lot and leads the way out of the campsite and onto a path towards the water. He checks his phone, and it’s just after eight o’clock, so they’re right on time. The fishing pier isn’t crowded. When he checked the website and saw that their area of the park wasn’t listed among the best places to watch the sunset, Louis figured it wouldn’t be. But seeing the pier, it’s more obvious why. It’s a concrete pier with no railing, only a few feet off the water, with large rocks on one side. 

“Are we fishing?” Harry asks. “We don’t have—”

“Nope. Just here to watch,” Louis says, finding a spot facing what he hopes is west and sitting down, legs dangling off the side.

“Watch what?” Harry asks, sitting beside him.

“The sunset, man,” Louis says, elbowing him. He pulls out the camera and sets it on the pier, leaning down to make sure it’s capturing the horizon. 

He missed his chance to watch the sunset over the water in Ohio, too concerned about Harry to realize it was an option if they’d just hiked to the other side of the island. 

The colors are deeper than at sunrise, more saturated, as if the sky had all day to soak up the sun and is having a hard time letting go. As it sinks over the horizon, Louis turns to Harry, smiling. 

Looking back at Louis, Harry blinks slowly, and whispers, “Beautiful. Thanks, Lou.”

There’s still light in the sky as they head towards the showers, and when Louis walks out, he finds Harry waiting for him. Since Harry broke up with Bryan, Louis doesn’t get his normal few minutes alone at night before bed, and there's no chance to pretend to be asleep when Harry finally climbs into the camper, because Harry’s there with him. Instead, they wind up talking once the lights are off, which Louis doesn’t mind at all, but it’s quite a change.

“How’s your bum?” Harry asks.

“My bum?” Louis repeats, rolling onto his side to look down at Harry on the dinette bench bed. 

“Yeah, from the cave. Is it bruised?”

“It’s fine, Harold,” Louis says, reaching around to smack his own ass. “Thanks for your concern.”

“I was scared, you know,” Harry says, folding his hands behind his head. He wakes up every morning with ridiculous bedhead curls from going to sleep with wet hair. “For, like, just a minute I thought you were hurt, and I—”

“Stop,” Louis says, cutting him off. “It was bad enough when it was happening. Don’t want to relive it. Especially when Niall’s probably going to put it on YouTube.”

“I’m glad you’re okay, is all I’m saying,” Harry says. “And if you don’t mind, I’d rather not go in any other small caves.”

“No more spelunking?” Louis asks, reaching down and pulling on the edge of Harry’s sheet. 

“No more tight spaces,” Harry says, kicking Louis’ hand. 

“I’m not afraid,” Louis says, narrowing his eyes. 

“You said if I didn’t want to do something, to tell you.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Didn’t you say that?” Harry asks, and Louis nods. “There’s plenty of other shit to do. I just don’t want to feel like that again. Thought I might throw up.”

“Gross, Harold.”

“Don’t be mean,” Harry says. “I was worried.”

“I…” Louis reaches down again, gently grabbing Harry’s ankle this time. “I’m just messing around. I wouldn’t ask you to do anything that would make you uncomfortable or scare you.”

“Thanks, Lou.”

“And I’m sorry my big, stupid bum got stuck in a cave and ruined spelunking for you,” Louis says, tickling the bottom of Harry’s foot. 

“Your bum isn’t stupid,” Harry says, scowling at him.

“But it’s big? That’s what you’re saying?” Louis hauls off and hits Harry’s legs with his pillow.

Harry snatches the pillow from him, holding it against his chest. “Your bum is the perfect size for you.”

“No more talking about my bum,” Louis says, wiggling his fingers until Harry tosses his pillow back to him. “Time to sleep.”

“I’ll talk about your bum if I want to,” Harry says petulantly. 

“Fine. Let’s talk about your bum,” Louis says.

“What about it?”

“I don’t know, Harold, you started this.”

“Yeah, because I wanted to make sure you weren’t bruised or anything.” Sitting up, Harry furrows his brow and says, “I know you’re joking around, but we were on bikes all day, and we’ll be on them tomorrow, and I wanted to make sure—”

“Are you looking out for my ass?”

Harry shrugs. “Looking out for you. You said we’re a team, so we look out for each other, right?”

“Yeah, of course,” Louis says, and Harry lays back down. “Harold?”

“Mmhmm?” 

“You know…” Louis closes his eyes as he tells Harry the truth. “I’m embarrassed about getting stuck. That’s why I’m giving you a hard time.”

“I figured,” Harry says, and Louis blinks at him. “That’s why I asked in the first place. ’Cause I thought, if you were bruised or sore, you wouldn’t say anything.”

“This trip is awful for hiding my shitty personality traits,” Louis says, and Harry cackles.

“There’s nothing shitty about you, Lewis. Go to sleep.”

Louis does as he’s told rather than list all of the things he dislikes about himself for the one person he’s tried his best to hide them from.

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

“Louis! Don’t!” Harry shouts, laughing as he paddles, or pedals, away from Louis. 

They spent the morning exploring the peninsula, but the floating bikes aren’t nearly as fun as they thought they’d be, and Louis has to keep himself entertained somehow. 

“Bumper boat bikes!” Louis yells, pedaling after him. “Bumper bicycle boats!”

Louis pulls alongside Harry, reaching out to push him, making him wobble on his floating bike, but he doesn’t tip over. Still, Harry screeches loud and long, and Louis imagines an attack parrot from another dimension might make the same sound. It’s complete nonsense, none of his noises are actually words, and it brings Louis to a halt. 

Just when Louis stops pedaling, Harry stretches his long arm out, shoving him so hard that he catches some air as he topples sideways off his floating bike and sinks beneath the water of the bay. 

A few seconds later, Louis bobs to the surface. His floating bike righted itself, but climbing back on is a chore, and by the time he’s seated and pedaling, Harry’s put some distance between them. Despite their consistent application of sunscreen, Harry’s arms and back are tanned, and his shoulders are tinged pink. They’ve been out on the water almost their full allotted hour. Louis just wanted to knock Harry off his bike one time, but it looks like it’s not going to happen. 

“Ow,” Louis says, breathing deep and pressing his hand to the stitch in his side. He slows his pedaling, not worried about catching Harry now, but Harry looks over his shoulder, still laughing, then frowns when he sees Louis is taking his sweet time heading for the shore. 

“You okay?” Harry calls to him.

“Okay!” Louis yells, giving him a thumbs up. But Harry carefully turns his floating bike around, pedaling back to Louis’ side. As soon as he’s a few feet away, Louis says, “I had a stitch, but I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Harry asks, pedaling closer.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Louis says, pressing his hand to his side again. He lifts his life jacket as much as he can, as if a stitch on his side would be visible. “You want to see?”

Harry nods, pedaling up beside him. It’s too good of an opportunity to pass up, and Louis shoves him hard with both hands, sending him into the water, flat on his back. As soon as Harry’s head pops up, he splashes Louis. 

“What the hell was that noise you made?” Louis asks, pedaling his floating bike in a wide circle around Harry while he climbs back onto his. “Sounded like a dying owl or something.”

“I don’t know,” Harry says, chuckling as he swings his leg over his bike seat. “Did it scare you?”

“Made me wonder what was wrong with you, so yeah, a little.”

They behave themselves on the ride back to the shore to return their floating bikes, and no one pushes anyone off the path on their bike ride back to the camper. While they dry off and change into the clothes they were wearing that morning, Louis makes sure to face the wall. 

Apparently, Harry is a nudist. Not officially, if there’s some sort of membership Louis isn’t aware of, but he changed into his swimsuit earlier like he didn’t care who saw his dick. And Louis definitely saw his dick. He thought about texting Niall to let him know that his worst fear came true, but didn’t bother. As if Niall needs to know that Harry’s dick is more perfect that Louis imagined it to be. Soft, it still hung heavy between his legs, long and thick and, well, Louis isn’t usually one to wax poetic about a penis, but given that he’s jerked off once in the last month, he’s not surprised where his mind goes. 

It’s a tiny camper. One hundred square feet is pushing it, and the actual floor of it is a small fraction of the whole. It’s not as though there’s a separate room, but Harry could very well turn around. Asses are the more acceptable body part to see while changing clothes. That’s a universal law. But Harry doesn’t know or doesn’t care, and now Louis has to be extra careful. 

Back on their bikes, they ride around to the top of the peninsula for their tour of the Eagle Bluff Lighthouse. It’s not as interesting as Louis hoped, and is more of a history lesson than anything. And by the time they bike back to the camper, they’re both tired. 

“Another six hour drive tomorrow,” Louis says, sprawled on his back on the big bed. He pulls his knees to his chest, stretching. 

“It’s longer and longer between parks from here, I think,” Harry says, peeking under the pan lid. 

“Yeah, there’s like, one or two short drives in there,” Louis says, straightening his legs out. “This country’s so fucking big, man.”

Harry snorts quietly, then says, “I know a guy who rode his bike from California to New York and back.”

“Why?” Louis asks, turning his head to watch Harry cook. 

“It was for charity. Like, he and whoever he went with got people to pledge money, and they rode across together. I don’t really know the details, but the charity thing was just California to New York. He and his friend decided to go back on their own, and then they kept going. Rode down through Mexico and I don’t know how far they got.”

“Are you telling me this because you want to ride your bike to California?” Louis asks, trying not to smile when Harry rolls his eyes at him. 

“No, I was just telling you a story,” Harry says, turning off the burner and lifting the lid off the pan. “Like, yeah, the United States is fucking huge, but at least we have a truck and a camper.”

“You’re so positive,” Louis says, sticking his foot out and poking Harry’s arm with his toe. “Let me complain about the drive.”

“Not until we’re actually driving,” Harry says. He splits their food onto two plates and sets them on the little table. When Louis slides off the bed onto the bench, Harry points his fork at him. “You can’t pre-complain.”

“Ugh. Fine,” Louis agrees, spearing a carrot with his fork. “I think I’ve eaten more vegetables in the last month than in the past, like, five years.”

“That’s horrible,” Harry says, shaking his head. “You should eat veggies every day.”

“No, I mean, like, more variety. I buy frozen stuff since it lasts forever. Niall likes green beans, so we eat a lot of those.” Waving his carrot at Harry, Louis says, “Niall doesn’t like carrots. What are these peas?”

“Sugar snap peas,” Harry says around a mouthful of them. 

“They’re good,” Louis says, humming while he chews. “Hey, um… I know I say thanks all the time, but thank you for cooking. I can do it now and then, if you want a break.”

“I like cooking for— for us,” Harry says, clearing his throat. “Is there something specific you want to eat? Or make? I mean, you can, obviously. I’m not stopping you.”

Louis shakes his head. “As long as you’re happy doing it, I’m happy to clean up after. I just feel bad, ’cause you do it everyday.”

“Don’t. I don’t mind at all,” Harry says, laughing quietly. “In another life, I was probably a chef. Or a baker. I love baking.”

“I love your baking,” Louis says, remembering all of the cupcakes and pastries Harry’s brought into the office. “Was sad when you went to visit your family at Christmas and Lottie bought me a grocery store cake for my birthday.”

“Louis,” Harry says, reaching across the table and taking his hand. “I promise you’ll never have to eat grocery store cake for your birthday again.”

“Harold, you can’t make promises like that,” Louis says, skin warm where Harry touched him. His cheeks flush as he pictures a future in which Harry does bake him a cake every year, where he wakes up on Christmas Eve in bed next to him, where he spends his holidays with Harry and his family. He quickly changes the subject. “Hurry up and eat if you want to see the sunset tonight.”

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

“Back to the pier?” Harry asks as soon as he puts his shower bag away. 

“Put a shirt on, Harold,” Louis says, tossing a clean t-shirt at him and hitting him in the face with it. 

Once Harry is fully clothed, they walk to the pier, sitting near one of the pylons and balancing the camera on that. The previous night, it was completely clear, but tonight there are a few clouds, which only add to the beauty of the sky at dusk. Deep indigo clouds float on the horizon, and the sun is pale yellow, its light outlining the edges of the clouds. They’re quiet as they watch the sun sinking; shades of orange, red, and pink streak the sky. 

Harry bumps their shoulders together, leaning into Louis’ side, and when Louis turns to look at him, he’s looking back, the warm colors of the sunset reflect in his eyes, turning the green golden. 

“Merry Christmas and happy birthday. Two gorgeous sunsets over Green Bay. Didn’t cost me anything, but I hope you like it,” Louis whispers, wondering if Harry’s ready to head back to the camper or if he’s alright with hanging around a little longer. 

Teeth sunk into his lower lip, Harry studies Louis’ face, and Louis fights the urge to look away. Slowly, Louis blinks, and as Harry moves closer, there’s a palpable charge in the air between them. Harry’s gaze darts to Louis’ mouth, and Louis turns his head, looking out across the water as the top curve of the sun disappears below the horizon. 

“Best Christmas-birthday gift ever,” Harry says, close enough that Louis can feel his breath on his ear. 

Shivering despite the heat, Louis pulls his feet up onto the pier and hugs his knees to his chest, wondering if he’s imagining the tension between them. “Hope that video turns out.”

“Yeah, um…” Harry clears his throat and picks up the camera, holding it out in front of them. Taking on the tone Louis recognizes as his on-camera voice, Harry says, “Don't know if you can see us, but hopefully Niall can work some magic. It’s been a fun few days here at Peninsula State Park. We chose this one because I’m a Packers fan, but we might have to come back in winter to get the full experience.” Louis scoffs, tipping his head back to stargaze while Harry finishes. “Tomorrow we’re heading for the Porcupine Mountains in Michigan. We chose that park for two reasons.”

“We did?” Louis asks, because he can only remember one. 

“Yeah, reason one: the Porcupine Mountains are known as the Porkies,” Harry says, scrunching his nose, unable to stifle his laughter. “Reason two: when Louis wakes up in the morning, he looks like a porcupine.”

“Harold!” Louis shoves him, almost knocking the camera out of his hands, but Harry holds tight to it as he slowly falls over sideways. “I do not look like a porcupine. Porcupines are _poisonous._ I look like a hedgehog.”

“Much more dignified,” Harry says, rolling onto his back and turning the camera on Louis. He whispers, “Looks poisonous to me.”

Louis pinches the back of his thigh, right behind the bend of his knee and Harry squeals. Before he can get up, Louis is on his feet, racing down the pier and back to the camper. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

In the morning, instead of pulling out the eggs to make breakfast, Harry says, “Let’s get McDonald’s when we get on the road.”

They take their time getting started, and when they stop at McDonald’s, it’s a good thing breakfast is served all day long. Louis orders two Egg McMuffins, two hash browns, and a Dr. Pepper. Harry tells them to double that.

“I haven’t had a Dr. Pepper in forever,” Harry says, chasing the straw with his tongue. 

Louis watches him and says, “Might not have one now if you can’t get the straw in your mouth.”

“Shut up,” Harry tells him, catching the straw and wiggling his eyebrows. He hums, hollowing his cheeks as he sucks the soda into his mouth, and Louis rolls his eyes. Maybe he did imagine the heat between them last night, if Harry can have sexual tension with a straw.

When Harry gets them off the peninsula and pulls onto the interstate, he catches up with traffic and turns on cruise control. Leaning back in his seat and tugging on the hem of his shorts, he glances over at Louis and asks, “What would you be doing if we were back home?” 

Checking his phone to be sure of the date, Louis says, “Working. It’s Wednesday.”

“I know, but, like… It’s almost July. Next Saturday’s the fourth. Year’s almost half over,” Harry says. “Would you have plans for the fourth? Is that something you celebrate?”

“They usually give us Friday off, if the fourth’s on the weekend, so I’d probably have plans to sit on my ass for three days and do nothing,” Louis says honestly. “Though, maybe I’d have plans to go somewhere else. Who knows. What about you?”

“Not sure. I was thinking about it last night. Whether or not Bryan and I’d still be together. If I’d’ve had the balls to tell him I wasn’t ready to move in with him.”

Louis rubs his eyes behind his sunglasses. “You, um… You were happy with him, right?”

Tightening his grip on the steering wheel, Harry shrugs both shoulders. “I mean, he wasn’t a horrible person to be around.”

“Harold,” Louis says, turning in his seat and pulling his sunglasses down a little. “That is hardly a compliment. You were with the guy for two years.”

_“Almost_ two years,” Harry corrects him as if Louis doesn’t remember the exact day in September that Harry met Bryan. 

They’d been working together for a little more than a year at that point, and Louis was on the verge of asking Harry out on a date in spite of the rules. At the time, Louis figured if Harry said yes, they could try dating and keeping things a secret. If things looked like they might work out, he'd been willing to look for another job. He already had, just to see what was available. 

It was the Friday night before Labor Day that solidified it for Louis. Everyone went out for drinks after work, and he and Harry stuck together, sitting side by side, chatting and joking, and pretty much ignoring everyone else. Later Niall made the comment that it seemed like they were in their own little world. Louis went home and spent the holiday weekend building up his nerve. 

Then Harry came to work that Tuesday, sat down across from Louis and told him he’d tagged along with Gemma to a cookout that Sunday and met someone. A friend of a friend of his sister’s boyfriend. They’d hung out that day, and again that evening, and then Harry spent the night and all of the following Monday with Bryan. Luckily, Zayn walked out of his office, and Harry shut up. The next time he brought Bryan up, Louis tried not to listen. At some point, Harry must’ve stopped talking about him.

“Not a horrible person to be around. Jesus. If that’s your list of must-haves in a boyfriend…”

“I didn’t mean it like that. He’s not a bad guy. Like, yeah, he was acting like a jealous prick, but… I think I would’ve broken up with him. I think going out and actually looking at places together would’ve knocked some sense into me. So, maybe we’d still be together right this second, but I wouldn’t’ve moved in with him and that probably would’ve been the end.”

“What if moving in wasn’t on the table?” Louis asks, more curious about Harry’s relationship with Bryan than he’s ever been. 

“Not sure. I know it’s only been like two weeks, but our relationship was… I don’t know. Not routine, because I like routine. Just… I didn’t have a, like, strong desire to be around him. Dates were always on Saturday nights, I’d stay at his place once or twice a week, he’d stay at mine, but we weren’t, like, sleeping together every night. I think…” Harry taps his fingers on the steering wheel, humming The Rolling Stones, and Louis huffs a laugh through his nose.

“When have you ever not gotten what you wanted, Harold?” 

Harry scoffs, swatting Louis’ arm. “Bryan was an easy relationship. He was cute, he asked me out, I said yes. And then… I don’t know. Prior to meeting him, like, my relationships before him weren’t great. I dated some real winners.” 

“Been there,” Louis says, thinking about his college boyfriend who lied about his age for an entire year, only for Louis to find out he was four years older with an ex-wife.

“Yeah, um… And there were, like, big things that sort of shouted ‘No!’ at me. Like, I wasn’t going to stay with a guy who cheated on me, and I wasn’t going to stay with a guy who refused to do any chores, and I wasn’t going to stay with a guy who, when we were about to sleep together for the first time, told me to ‘put my mouth where it’s meant to be’ like he couldn’t even say please when I asked him to. Stuff like that. Bryan never really did anything _wrong_ wrong.” 

Burying his face in his hands, Louis says, “Oh my god, Harold.” 

“What? Like Chad was such a great boyfriend?” Harry snaps. 

“No, no, I wasn’t— I meant the guy who said that to you. The one who wouldn’t say please. What an ass.” Louis presses his hands to his cheeks, sucking his lips together and making a face like a fish. 

“Oh, sorry,” Harry says, looking over and letting loose a guffaw like a donkey when he sees Louis’ face. 

“But, no. You’re right. Chad was a, um, stopgap. Dating him was an accident, really,” Louis says, amused at his own words as he hears them. “Not sure how it happened.”

“How do you accidentally date someone?”

“Clearly you’re asking the wrong person, Harold.”

“I mean, didn't you just date? And like, go out a few times, and then decide to make it official or whatever?”

“No,” Louis says, but he’s not going to elaborate unless Harry presses him. 

Of course, Harry presses him. “Then what happened?”

“You’re nosy,” Louis says, realizing only Niall knows the truth.

“Can’t help it. I’m curious,” Harry says.

“I met him through Grindr last November,” Louis says with a sigh. Maybe if he’s completely honest, Harry will drop the subject. “We hooked up a few times. Strictly sex. Then one time, I’d ordered a pizza right before he texted, and we ended up eating it afterwards and watching a movie. Which was okay, I guess. He started ordering takeout whenever we met up. Then I bumped into him at a bar one night. Took him home with me. We were drunk, so he stayed over. He texted me that night of your birthday when everyone from work went out, and I invited him along. Next thing I know, he’s introducing himself as my boyfriend, and that’s that.”

“You think he did it on purpose?” Harry asks.

“What? Oh, maybe…” Louis says. The thought never crossed his mind, but anything’s possible, though he doubts Chad’s ever planned anything in his life. “I don’t know.”

“What about that guy?”

“What guy?”

“The guy you were telling me about before the hot air balloon ride. The one with the ‘circumstances’ or whatever it is that’s keeping you apart. Does he live far away? Should we put him on the itinerary?”

“Maybe later,” Louis says, wondering where all of this is coming from. Maybe Harry’s fishing because he’s interested. Maybe Harry’s looking for an easy lay. Maybe Louis is reading too much into things. “What’s your, um… What’d you ask me that day? If you can’t get what you want, what is it you want? Where’s your checklist, Harold?”

“I, um… I don’t have a list, but I…” Chewing on the side of his thumb, Harry hums, changing lanes to get off the interstate. As soon as he merges into traffic, he says, “I just want someone that's funny. Someone that’s a nice person. Someone that… has a nice smile.”

“That’s worse than ‘not a horrible person to be around.’”

“It’s not!” Without taking his eyes off the road, Harry reaches over and digs his fingertips into Louis’ stomach, making him scream with laughter. He grabs hold of Harry’s wrist, wrenching it away and biting his forearm for good measure. “Ouch, Lou. You better not have rabies.”

“I didn’t break the skin,” Louis says, letting go of Harry’s arm. “But I will next time.”

“Promises, promises,” Harry says. He pushed his sunglasses into his messy curls, making his tiny pony tail stand straight up, and Louis tugs on it gently. “I want someone I _want_ to be around. Someone I can't get enough of. Someone I have fun with. Someone who I like as a person. Someone who likes me and, like, doesn't want to change who I am.”

“That’s a good list,” Louis says, pulling Harry's little ponytail again. 

“Thanks,” Harry says, chewing on his lower lip. “I'm a flirt, right? I flirt with everyone. I know it. You know it. It’s just how I am. But I’m not… I’m not flirting with everyone and trying to get in their pants.”

“You’re charming,” Louis says, more confused by the minute. 

“Yeah, I guess, but like… It’s who I am. A part of my personality. I don’t want to be with someone who’d want to change that. And I don’t want to be with someone if they don’t trust me.”

“Trust is important,” Louis says, though he doesn’t trust as easily as he used to. “I get what you’re saying. Your checklist is a good one. Think I’ll borrow it. Just cross your name off, put mine on it.”

“That’s cheating, Lewis,” Harry says. 

“Yeah, but who’s going to find out?” Louis asks, reaching down for the handle to lean the passenger seat back. He raises his arms, linking his fingers behind his head, and with the loose fitting tank top he’s wearing, almost daring Harry to tickle him. “Who are you going to tell, Harold?”

Harry’s eyes trail over Louis’ arms and a car horn blares, rightfully pulling Harry’s attention away. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

Porcupine Mountains Wilderness State Park lives up to its name. It’s the first time Louis feels like they’re actually in the wilderness. It’s also the first time they cross into a different time zone. The park is huge, and so much of it is untouched forest, that it’s as if they’ve stepped back in time. And even though the campground is packed, with RVs and campers practically on top of each other, they don’t spend much time there, preferring to be out hiking and enjoying the weather, the view, the silence. With bear spray at the ready. 

They don’t do much talking, or at least not about anything of importance. But this time it feels less like Harry’s keeping to himself and more like they’re quietly, happily coexisting. Except when Harry’s making jokes about Louis’ hair and porcupines. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

At Itasca State Park in Minnesota, Harry stands beside the wooden signpost and reads it aloud for the camera, “Here, one thousand four hundred seventy-five feet above the ocean, the mighty Mississippi begins to flow on its winding way two thousand five hundred fifty-two miles to the Gulf of Mexico.”

“That’s crazy,” Louis says, shaking his head. It’s just a tiny beach, some rocks, a brook they can wade across. 

“It’s actually not the same distance anymore because of, like, flooding and other stuff,” Harry adds, walking onto the rocks and balancing with his arms out to either side. 

“No, I mean, like, the Mississippi is such a… big doesn’t seem like enough of a word, but it’s just a massive, massive river. And it starts out so small,” Louis says, keeping the camera steady and he bends down to splash some of the water on Harry. 

“Oh, yeah,” Harry says, carefully squatting down to sit on one of the larger rocks that mark where the brook ends and the river begins. “Got to start somewhere, right?”

“I suppose,” Louis says, stepping into the cool water. “Have you ever thought about, like, how life is kind of like that?”

“Like what?” Harry asks, slipping off of the rock and into the shallow water of the brook. 

“Like how one tiny thing sort of sets your life course,” Louis says, aiming the camera at Harry as he wades through the water towards him. “Not that you can’t make changes. I’m not saying everything is predestined, just that, like… Okay. The summer I was seventeen, if my mom hadn't gotten some free passes to the museum, I wouldn’t be on this trip right now.”

“Really?” Harry asks, standing a few feet away, hands on his hips, head cocked to the side. “How’s that?”

“Without the free passes, my mom wouldn’t’ve asked me to take my sisters to the museum, and if I hadn't taken them, I wouldn’t’ve seen they were hiring, and I wouldn’t’ve gotten a summer job there. Those free passes changed my whole life,” Louis says as he really thinks about it for the first time. “Even college. Before that summer, I’d been planning to be a teacher.”

“You’d make a good teacher,” Harry says, wrinkling his nose as he pushes his sunglasses up into his hair. “You’re patient. And kind. Like, with little kids or older?”

“Kindergarten. Maybe a bit older,” Louis says. “Haven’t thought about that in years.”

Stepping closer, Harry asks, “Are you still recording?”

“Shit,” Louis says, turning the camera off. “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay, Lou, I was just wondering,” Harry says, kicking a little water onto Louis’ legs, and drawing attention to the small space between them. “We wouldn’t know each other.”

Frowning, Louis asks, “What?”

Smile tugging at his lips, Harry takes the camera, and looks at the shore of the brook. “Without those free museum passes,” he says, then turns and points towards the river. “We’d never have met.” 

“Are you comparing our friendship to the Mississippi River?” Louis asks, as Harry takes another step towards him.

Harry shrugs one shoulder, licking his lips as he leans in, and Louis’ stomach flutters, heart skipping a beat. Faster than Louis has ever seen him move, Harry hooks his foot behind Louis’ legs and shoves him in the chest, sending him sprawling on his back in the shallow brook. 

From beneath the water, Louis lifts his hands, flipping both middle fingers at Harry. When Harry bends down, laughing, and tries to help Louis up, Louis grabs his wrists and pulls. He lands on top of Louis, pushing Louis back under the water, and rolling off of him. Louis sits up, sputtering. 

Grinning at him, floating on his back in less than two feet of water, Harry splashes him in the face. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

“I’m not looking forward to this park,” Harry says, pouting when Louis glances over. 

It’s pretty much a straight shot on the interstate to Fort Abraham Lincoln State Park, and Harry insisted on having the windows down. The little ponytail on top of his head doesn’t stop his curls from blowing around, and when he turns to look at Louis, his hair is like a fluffy halo around his head. 

“You’ve said,” Louis tells him. It’s not the first time Harry’s complained about this next park or the two that follow it. “Think of it this way. We help edit the book, right? But for the last edition, we didn’t have much input as far as which parks were chosen.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I know you know,” Louis says, reaching over to tug one of Harry’s windblown curls. “We use this as an opportunity. We’re honest in our videos. If we really don’t enjoy ourselves, we say so. Maybe for the next edition, they’ll choose different parks.”

“You think?” Harry asks, leaning into Louis’ hand. Obliging him, Louis scratches his scalp and tucks his hair behind his ear before remembering they’ve been recording their drive with the camera mounted to the dash.

“Maybe they’ll let us help choose.” 

“Ooh…” Sitting up a bit, Harry says, “Maybe they’ll let us go around and visit some other parks, and like, check them out. Do our own write ups for the next edition.”

“There are like ten thousand state parks,” Louis reminds him. 

“I didn’t mean we should visit them all,” Harry says. “And I suppose we could’ve picked some different parks—”

“Our criteria is different from the criteria for choosing the parks for the books,” Louis says, quickly looking at the camera and smiling. “We want camping. Number one requirement. And showers.” 

“No war stuff,” Harry says.

Chuckling quietly, Louis says, “Stuff.” 

“It’s not funny, Lou.” Scowling, Harry leans over in front of the camera. “I _am_ looking forward to seeing some bison.”

“I’ve heard the burros get jealous,” Louis says, and Harry sits back up. “I just thought the word ‘stuff’ was funny. I don’t particularly want to visit Custer’s house. Or Rushmore.”

“I didn’t know about the Six Grandfathers until last year.” Sighing and looking at the camera again, Harry pointedly says, “They didn’t teach us that in school.”

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

While Harry claims he’s not in a bad mood, he doesn’t brighten up until a few days later, when they're leaving Custer State Park, and they get stuck on the road, surrounded by burros. Thankfully, they don’t have any food in the truck cab or Harry’d feed it all to them. 

“They’re cute,” Harry says, rolling the window up when the shaggy brown burro decides there’s nothing for him in their truck, and walks away. 

“I didn’t say they weren’t,” Louis says, finally able to drive again. “It’s why we came on this road. I thought you’d like them, but I didn’t realize they’d try to climb in through the window.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Harry says, turning the dash camera to face him. “Louis is exaggerating. I think he’s jealous. Wants to be scratched and petted like a feral burro.”

“I do not,” Louis insists, swatting Harry’s hand away when he reaches towards him. “Don’t touch me!”

Stretching across the truck cab and dodging Louis’ hand to ruffle his hair, Harry says, “Oh, come on, Lou. Let me pet you.”

Louis tries to cover his head with his arm, but it’s useless, and Harry combs his fingers through the hair at Louis’ nape, rubbing his thumb behind Louis’ ear. Shivering at the touch, Louis grabs Harry’s hand and holds it on the seat between them, but his skin is already covered in goosebumps. 

“I’m going to smell like burro,” Louis says, squeezing Harry’s hand. “Let me drive, Harold.”

Louis gets his revenge a few days after that, when they’re leaving Fort Robinson State Park in Nebraska, and have to stop and wait for a herd of bison. 

“Oh my god, Louis,” Harry says, smacking Louis’ shoulder. “Roll up your window. They stink.”

“Why? It’s natural. Like the great George Michael said.” Covering his giggles with the back of his hand, Louis pauses to clear his throat, and sings, “Sex is natural, sex is good, not everybody does it, but everybody should. Sex is natural, sex is fun, sex is best when it's… _bison on bison.”_

“Bison sex? I don’t want to watch bison have sex!” Harry covers his eyes, and the bison nearest to Louis’ open window, whose tongue is dangling out of his mouth, groans long and low, and Louis cackles as Harry sinks down in his seat. 

“God, that’s such a great song. Great album,” Louis says, ignoring him. He grabs his phone, finds _Faith,_ and presses play. By the time “I Want Your Sex” comes on, the bison have cleared a path, and they’re on their way to Wyoming. Still, Louis sings along, trying his best to moan like a bison in rut at the end of each line, “What's your definition of dirty baby? What do you consider pornography? Don't you know I love you till it hurts me baby? Don't you think it's time you had sex with _a bison?”_

“Don’t, Lou,” Harry begs, clapping his hand over Louis’ mouth and turning down the music. “Don’t make me associate George Michael with Bison mating season. Please.”

Louis licks his hand, and Harry jerks it away, narrowing his eyes, but Louis laughs, and says, “Okay, Harold. No more bison moans.”

“Thank you,” Harry says, and turns the music back up. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

About halfway to Sinks Canyon State Park, they stop for gas, and switch places so Harry can drive. It’s the first time Harry’s been happy about their next stop in a week, and Louis feeds off of his excitement. When they get in, and set up camp, they pull down their bikes, and take off headed for Canyon Loop Trail. 

While doing research on the parks, Louis found himself most looking forward to visiting places he never thought he’d go for fun. His college roommate had family in Wyoming, and whenever he’d go visit, Louis would say, “Why would anyone ever voluntarily go to Why-oming?” Mostly, he was joking, but even as he’s gotten older, and gotten rid of his cityboy superiority complex, his vacation destinations have always included sunny beaches and bars within walking distance of his hotel. The idea of biking or hiking every single day has never been appealing, and yet, here he is, following Harry over miles of bike trails until the sunlight fades and they have to get back to the camper for dinner. 

“Can’t believe they have yurts,” Harry says, passing Louis the cutting board. It’s his job to slice the sausages for the chicken bog they’re planning to eat for dinner over the next few nights. 

“Lots of these parks have them,” Louis says, picking up the knife and getting to work. “It’s cost efficient. They rent for the same price as cabins.”

“Yeah, I just wish I’d known. Would’ve wanted to stay in one.”

“Maybe someplace else,” Louis says, thinking of the upcoming parks. “They don’t have air conditioning, and I’d rather be in the camper with A/C when it’s ninety degrees out.”

“Me too,” Harry says, dropping onto the bench across from him and slumping in his seat. He crosses his arms, letting his head fall back, and Louis has to put the knife down or risk cutting himself, too distracted by the desire to nip at Harry's sharp jawline, lick the hollow of his throat, and kiss his Adam’s apple when he swallows before he says, “Tomorrow should be fun. I’m kind of nervous, but like, in a good way.”

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. Even if you climb out there and change your mind, you can climb back,” Louis says, because he’s thinking the same thing. Seeing other people do something on video is a lot different from doing it yourself. 

Harry nods and watches while Louis scrapes the sliced sausage into the pot. “You should go ahead and shower. I’ll finish dinner and go when you get back.”

“Good plan, Harold,” Louis says, standing and grabbing his shower bag. He slips on his flip flops and steps outside to walk to the showers. 

A middle aged man opens the door just as Louis reaches for the handle, and after they laugh at how startled they both were, the man says, “All yours.”

Louis walks through the room, checking out the shower stalls, and finds that the entire room really is all his. It’s completely empty. He hangs his bag on the hook inside the last stall in the corner, and pulls the curtain shut, stripping out of his sweaty clothes while the water heats up. 

Like most campsite showers, the pressure isn’t great and the water has an unidentifiable, though not necessarily bad, smell to it. He washes quickly, scrubbing himself from head to toe, and rinsing before turning the water all the way to cold. Unfortunately, as hot as it’s been all day, the cold water is lukewarm and doesn’t do its job, which is to shock Louis’ balls back into his body and shrink his dick enough that masturbating is the furthest thing from his mind. 

Sighing, Louis looks down at his flaccid penis and cups his balls in his hand, muttering, “Thank you for your years of service, men.” 

His dick perks up at the fleeting touch and Louis groans morosely, but quietly, so that no one will hear. Except that there’s no one out there to hear. 

“Hello?” Louis calls out. There’s no response, but just in case, he follows it up with, “Harry, is that you?” 

When no one says anything, he bites his lip, giving himself a couple of slow strokes. Immediately, he starts to get hard, and he laughs, turning to face the wall. He squirts some body wash in his hand and, metaphorically, he’s off to the races. In no time at all, his orgasm starts to build, heat pooling in his stomach, and he braces his left hand on the wall, jerking himself fast and rough. Every muscle in his body tightens as he comes, picturing Harry on his knees in front of him, sucking him off and swallowing his release. His legs tremble with the effort of keeping him upright. 

After cleaning away the evidence, Louis washes his entire body once more, including his hair, just in case. His second hurried orgasm in a month and a half, and he came so much and for so long, that the Harry in his head choked on it without Louis meaning for him to. 

Dry and clean, at least physically, Louis gathers his things and makes his way back to the campsite. 

“Long line?” Harry asks as soon as Louis climbs into the camper. 

“Yeah,” Louis lies, stuffing his dirty clothes into the duffel bag on the bed. “Was clearing out though.”

“Dinner’s done,” Harry says, grabbing his own shower bag. “Be back soon. I hope.”

The second the door shuts, Louis picks up his pillow and hides his face in it, whimpering miserably. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

Sunday morning, after breakfast, they pack their backpacks for the day, and set off for the Sinks to Rise Trail. It’s not a long hike from their campground, and it’s downhill, but it’s hot, and they take it easy, preserving energy for the hike back up and past their campground to the falls. 

When they get to the Sinks, Harry stands in the shade near the visitor’s center, while Louis gets ready to record. Harry takes off his bucket hat, combing his fingers through his curls, and Louis says, “The longer your hair gets, the curlier it is.”

“Yeah, I know. It hasn’t been this long since college,” Harry says, popping the rubber bands on his wrist. “Yours is long, too. Growing a mullet, Lewis.”

“Fuck off,” Louis says, rolling his eyes. Before they left DC his hair needed a trim, but he was too busy and it hadn't occurred to him to stop at a SuperCuts or something. 

“I like it,” Harry says, interrupting Louis’ thoughts. He steps closer, putting his own hat back on and pulling it down to shade his eyes. He hooks his sunglasses on the neck of his tank top, and reaches up to tug gently on Louis’ hair where it tickles the back of his neck. “Makes you look more rugged.”

Louis snorts a little laugh through his nose. “Thanks, Harold. I haven’t shaved since May, but the mullet is what does it for you?”

Wiggling his eyebrows, Harry says, “Business in the front, party in the back, as they say.”

“I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean,” Louis says, narrowing his eyes and pinching Harry’s side. “Go stand over there and do your job.”

With a smack to Louis’ hand, Harry explains, “It just means that you’re already handsome and, like, rugged, but the long hair, um… adds to it.”

“Going to find a SuperCuts on the way to Montana. Get my head professionally shaved,” Louis says, and Harry gasps as he backs away. 

When Louis gives him the signal, he says, “We’re here in Wyoming at the Sinks, where the Popo Agie River disappears into a cavern in the rocks. Geologists think there’s more going on below the surface than just an underground river because, while it _is_ the same water that comes up on the other side—at the Rise—it takes two hours to get there.” He talks a little longer about the water and the research and the dye tests that have been done, and they watch the river for a while before hiking the short trail around to the Rise, where the river reappears. Lopsided grin on his face, Harry points to the fish in the water, and says, “So, while they’ve looked, they still don’t know for sure what’s going on under there. Which, I think, is applicable to, you know, life. Like, in general, people don’t always look too deeply, or like, past the surface. And maybe they should.”

“Are you getting philosophical, Harold?” Louis asks, tilting his head to the side and wrinkling his nose. It’s hard not to smile at him sometimes. “I don’t know what our viewers are like, but I don’t think they’re here for your personal life philosophy.”

Harry heaves a dramatic sigh and says, “Lewis, I’m trying to make good TV. Do you think people know we don’t watch the videos?”

“They do now,” Louis says, turning the camera around and grinning at it. “We decided not to watch any of the videos because we both think we’ll be too self conscious. Like, earlier, Harold said I have a mullet. And now I have to shave my head. But if I’d seen it on video, I’d probably be too embarrassed to be in front of the camera.”

“He’s not shaving his head,” Harry yells, and Louis turns the camera back towards him. “I’m sorry I called it a mullet. But, to be fair, I did also say you’re handsome and rugged.”

“Flattery will get you absolutely nowhere,” Louis says, walking closer and keeping the camera on Harry. “Tell the people where we’re going now.”

“Oh, um, the Popo Agie Falls, where we’ll probably spend the rest of the day,” Harry says, fanning himself with his hands. “It’s hot, and we get to go in the water.”

Louis turns off the camera. “You shouldn’t compliment me when we’re recording. Our shippers will take it as proof that we’re together.”

“We are together,” Harry says, frowning at him and gesturing back and forth between them.

“Oh my god, Harold,” Louis says. “Not physically together. Are you having heat stroke? I meant, like, as in dating.”

“Oh…” Slowly, Harry nods, and then smirks. “Just fucking with you.”

Spinning around, Louis starts back up the trail. They’ve got quite a few miles to cover to get to the falls, and then they’ve got to hike back to the camper afterwards. It’s going to be a long day. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

“Holy shit, Lou,” Harry whispers, and Louis glances back over his shoulder at him. “That kid’s tiny. Look at her go!”

Louis turns around just in time to see the little girl as she slips off the rock and into the water. At the far side of the swimming hole, a group of people cheer, and Louis claps along nervously, smiling when her head pops up and she swims away from the falls. 

“You want to go first?” Louis asks, immediately wondering if he should’ve worded his question differently, or volunteered to go himself, since Harry said he was nervous. “I mean, I’m up for it, but if you’d rather—”

“I want to go first,” Harry says with a quick nod. “You film it, and then I’ll film you.”

“Okay, yeah,” Louis says, taking the camera from Harry’s hands. “Want to say anything?”

“Just a second,” Harry says, letting his backpack slide off his arms. He puts it on the ground behind Louis and out of the path, then sets his hat on top, bending over and unlacing his hiking boots. It’s not until he stands up that Louis realizes he’s been staring at Harry’s legs and ass the whole time. Then, to make things worse, Harry takes off his shirt and drapes it over the top of his bag, and Louis is faced with a mostly naked Harry, who says, “Maybe my sweat will be dry by the time we’re done.”

“Gross,” Louis says, twisting his lips like he’s disgusted instead of enthralled by the sheen of sweat on Harry’s chest. “Okay. I’m recording, but I zoomed in so it looks like you’re naked.”

Harry lets loose a short laugh, clearing his throat. He holds up his finger for Louis to wait, and pulls the waistband of his swimsuit down below the swell of his love handles, until it’s barely covering anything. Hands on his hips, he gives Louis his cheesy on-camera smile, showing all of his teeth. 

“Here we go, people,” Harry says, pointing his thumb at the falls behind him. “I’m about to go down a natural water slide, and I’m a little nervous, but mostly excited. I jumped off a cliff once when I was in college, so—”

“Into water,” Louis says. “Tell the people you jumped off a cliff _into_ water, Harold.”

“Yeah, I did. But it was different because you, like, climbed up to a flat area and then jumped into the ocean,” Harry explains, miming his climb and jump with his hands. “My nerves are mostly because I don’t want to fall and make an ass of myself.”

“Harold, need I remind you about Wye Cave?” Louis asks, and Harry shakes his head. “Get going.”

There are a few people in front of him, but not many, and soon enough Harry makes his way out onto the rocks, arms out for balance. He sits, and scoots sideways, glancing at Louis and giving him two thumbs up before pushing himself over into the running water. Once he’s actually in the path of the river, as narrow as it might be, it carries him down the slick rock face and Harry screams, the sound cutting off abruptly when he plunges into the swimming hole below. Seconds later, Harry pops up a few feet from where he went under, shaking the water from his hair, and swimming for the other side. 

While Harry climbs back up, Louis takes off his hat, boots, socks, and shirt, laying his sunglasses on top. 

“Water’s cold,” Harry says, standing close enough to drip water on Louis’ feet, hunching his shoulders and rubbing his hands together.

“It’s almost ninety degrees today, man. Quit complaining,” Louis says, pushing the center of Harry’s chest until he takes a step back. “You want to go again?”

“Yeah.” Harry nods, and says, “I’ll record you, then I’ll haul our stuff down there, if that’s okay.”

“Sounds good,” Louis says, and moves ahead with the short line. He’s not nervous until he gets out on the rocks. Without his hiking boots, he has to be much more careful, and it seems like he’s a lot higher up than it looked from where he was recording Harry. Shading his eyes, he finds Harry waving at him, and waves back, big stupid smile on his face until he notices what he’s doing and focuses on the rock and the water. 

He walks sideways until he’s pretty sure if he takes another step, he’ll slip and fall, and then he squats down. His ass hits the rock, he straightens his legs out, pushes off and to the side, instantly rushing down and over the falls. Icy water goes up his nose, and he comes up coughing and laughing, swimming for the shore. 

They go down the falls over and over, holding their noses after the first time. And when Louis gets tired of climbing back up, he sits on a log on the side of the swimming hole, letting the sun warm his skin, while Harry climbs up and comes back down the natural water slide. 

Once Louis feels his shoulders start to burn, he hops back into the water, swimming out to meet Harry halfway. The second Harry’s head is above water, Louis splashes him, and instead of screeching or splashing Louis back, Harry dives under the water. He comes up right in front of Louis, wet curls covering his eyes, and dunks Louis with both hands on his shoulders. But he doesn’t swim away, so that when Louis surfaces, they’re face to face, only a few inches between them. 

Their knees bump as they tread water, and Harry pushes his dripping wet hair back out of his eyes, gaze dropping to Louis’ mouth before he blinks and looks away. 

Unsure if he’s imagining the pull between them, Louis starts to lift his hand out of the water to splash Harry again, but Harry must guess what he’s about to do because he grabs both of Louis’ wrists, pinning them to his sides. Harry lowers himself under the water, and Louis’ heart, which already feels like it might explode from the combination of adrenaline and Harry’s grip on his wrists, thuds in his chest. 

“Hi,” Louis says, a little breathless when Harry’s head finally appears again. Tipping his head back, Harry spits a fountain of river water up and into Louis’ face. 

As if he didn’t just do it on purpose, he laughs and says, “Oops!” 

“I’m going to drown you, Harold,” Louis says, wrenching himself free and pushing Harry under the water. 

There’s a loud splash and a cheer, and Louis notices how close to the falls they’ve drifted. Face burning, he swims for the shore, hoping that he can write off his blush as sunburn. 

They sit in the sun for a while before putting their boots on and heading back to camp. It wasn’t the brightest idea to wear their swimsuits without packing extra shorts, and when they get to the camper, they’re both whining about chafing on their inner thighs. Harry's bright idea is to apply the sunburn relief gel to their irritated skin, and they wind up running for the showers barefoot, still in their swimsuits, to wash it off. 

Mentholated aloe vera sunburn relief gel is not to be used on broken or irritated skin, and Louis reads the warning label loudly while Harry shakes with laughter, digging through their first aid kit until he finds calendula cream. They use most of the tiny tube and put it on their list to buy more the next time they go shopping. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣ 

Because their legs still hurt the next day, after the seven hour drive to Bannack State Park in Montana, they spend the afternoon and evening hanging around their campsite and cleaning the camper. It’s the first real break they’ve taken, and it’s nice to have what amounts to a day off as they begin their seventh week on the road. 

On Tuesday, they spend the morning outside at the campsite, wading in Grasshopper Creek and just enjoying the cooler weather. It’s the first time in a while that they haven’t wanted to run the air conditioning all day, and sitting out on the grass by the creek, Louis feels the warmth of the sun on the back of his neck, but he isn’t sweaty or considering laying down in the water to cool off. 

They have an appointment for a private tour of the mill after lunch, and are planning to join the guided tour of the town a few hours after that, but Harry wants to walk around the town first to get a feel for it.

“It’ll be quieter and probably creepier without a whole tour group,” Harry says, finding his sneakers in the back of the storage closet. 

Louis slips on his Vans, and digs through their gear until he finds an official Tellurian International snapback to keep his hair out of his face. Somehow, he doesn’t think he’d be nearly as cute as Harry with his hair split into two tiny ponytails, one on top of his head, and the rest gathered in a rubber band at the nape of his neck. He looks like a horse who’d really, really rather be a unicorn. 

It’s a short walk from the campground to the town, and for once, they don’t have backpacks or multiple cameras weighing them down, just their phones and their water bottles. 

“It says,” Harry talks slowly, reading the pamphlet. “Close the doors after we leave the buildings, but that we can just go inside any of them.”

They walk through every building they pass. Some are much more fitting to Louis’ idea of a ghost town than others, with log walls and floors, warped glass windows, and creaking doors. But some of the buildings are more modern, which makes sense considering that the town wasn’t completely abandoned until about fifty years ago. Those buildings are scary in their own way. A dust covered old fashioned baby carriage gives him chills, and the patterned wallpaper in some of the houses makes him a little melancholy. 

“It’s weird, like… first of all, this is some horrible wallpaper,” Louis says, running his hand over the bright yellow flower covered wall. “But…” 

“I like it!” Harry says, popping his head into the room. 

“You can wallpaper your room when you move in,” Louis offers.

“Still going to let me live with you?” Harry asks, trailing his knuckles down the back of Louis’ arm, giving him chills for a different reason.

“I mean, you have to pay rent, but yeah,” Louis says, though he wonders if Harry will want to move in with him once the trip is over and he watches their videos. It’s obvious to him now that Harry's attracted to him, but he can’t tell if there’s anything else there or if it’s only a physical thing. And if Louis’ feelings for him are as blatant as Niall says they are, there’s no way Harry won’t put it all together once he sees it from the outside and reads some of the comments. 

“I think I see what you mean,” Harry says, gently tracing his fingertips over the edge of a loose strip of wallpaper. “It’s like, the really old houses with nothing but old pine beams for floors and walls, and nothing inside to tell you which room is which, or any, like, personality to them, those houses are kind of what you expect from a ghost town.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think we’d see anything modern,” Louis says, walking towards what looks like might’ve been a bathroom. The doorway is blocked with a couple of pieces of wood nailed across it, and when he gets close enough, he can see that the floor is rotted away, leaving a gaping hole that some tourist probably fell through. It’s wallpapered too, with horses and little kids dressed as cowboys in bright, saturated colors. 

“The wallpaper, like, attaches the house to people,” Harry says, reaching over Louis’ shoulder to touch the picture of the little cowboy. “Somebody lived here, and like, somebody picked this pattern. Makes it more real. More sad, I guess.”

“Exactly, Harold,” Louis says, turning around, but unable to move with Harry standing so close. 

“Sorry,” Harry mutters, taking a few steps back. “You want to go check out the old hotel?”

The hotel is two stories, and they’re able to walk upstairs. There are more modern appliances in the kitchen, which again, makes the fact that the town was abandoned more real. As they’ve done in each building, they wander off on their own, checking out whatever interests them. Louis finds the vault on the first floor, opening the back to back doors and walking inside just when he hears Harry coming down the stairs. Biting his lip to keep from laughing, Louis tiptoes over and carefully shuts the doors, recording with his phone while he hides in the dark.

“Lou?” Harry calls, voice closer when he says, “Lewis, are you still upstairs?”

When Harry pulls the first door to the vault open, a sliver of sunlight spills under the second door, and Louis holds his breath, pointing his phone camera at the doorway. Harry swings the inner vault door open, and Louis doesn’t yell or jump out at him, but Harry still screams, leaping backwards, and Louis laughs so hard he can’t breathe. 

Stumbling out of the vault, Louis tries to catch his breath, but as soon as he sees Harry’s pout and furrowed brow combined with his unicorn ponytails, he loses it again, cackling and wiping tears from his eyes. 

“Your face!” Louis says when he can finally speak. He presses the red button to stop recording and slips his phone into his pocket. “Harold, that was priceless.”

Narrowing his eyes, Harry crosses his arms over his chest. 

“Are you pissed?” Louis asks, propping his hands on his hips. “Seriously?”

Harry spins on his heel and leaves the room. A few seconds later, Louis hears the front door shut, and his mouth drops open. Frowning and following after him, Louis yanks the hotel door open, and from behind him, Harry shouts, “Boo!”

“Oh my god, you loser,” Louis says, turning and poking him hard in the ribs. As Harry backs away, Louis tickles him harder, digging his fingertips into Harry’s sides until Harry bumps into the banister, unable to move. “Thought you were mad at me for real.”

Shaking his head, Harry keeps giggling, but Louis stops tickling him, distracted by his smile and his dimples, his flushed cheeks and pink lips, overcome with the urge to kiss him. Harry stills, sucking his lower lip between his teeth, and in that second, Louis is sure that if he leaned in, Harry would meet him halfway. 

Instead, Louis lets him go, stepping back towards the door. 

Harry was right. The group tour is louder, though they learn more about the town from the tour guide. That night they’re alone at the campground, and they pin back the shades, open the windows, and fall asleep to the sound of the creek flowing beside their camper. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

“Fifteen _thousand_ year old dunes,” Harry says. With wide eyes, and sunglasses holding his wild curls off his suntanned face, he grins at the camera, and Louis finds himself grinning back. 

“You realize that a lot of the places we’ve been are probably about the same age, right?” Louis asks, but Harry just waves him off. They’re standing outside the Bruneau Dunes Visitor Center in Idaho where they just picked up a wooden sled and sandboard, which is similar to a snowboard in shape, though no boots or other special clothes or equipment are necessary. 

“But this is sand,” Harry says, lifting the sandboard up, over, and behind his head, holding it on his shoulders with both hands, distracting Louis with the curves of his biceps and the curls of damp hair under his arms. “Fifteen thousand year old rocks are, like, the norm. Sand is… I don’t know… It seems less permanent.”

“I get what you’re saying, Harold,” Louis says, and points at the sandboard. “Do you want to talk about why these are more permanent? And then about what we’re doing today?”

Humming and chewing on his lip, Harry nods. “I’ll talk about the dunes. You do the rest, but when we get there.”

“Okay, go for it,” Louis says, and Harry stands up straight, lowering the sandboard to lean against his leg. 

“Because of the way the wind blows, the Bruneau Dunes don’t shift much. The basin around them protects them too, and so it’s okay to walk on them or roll down them, if that’s what you want to do.” Harry spins his hands around and around each other, and laughs quietly. “Like, at most beaches, the dunes are protected areas and you’re not supposed to mess with them. These dunes are different. And almost five hundred feet tall. Today we’re going to check them out.”

Louis turns off the camera and puts it in his backpack. “We’re basically going in a circle today.”

“Yeah, I’m sure we’ll be tired tonight, too. There’s, like, no shade,” Harry says, digging his bucket hat out of his backpack and putting it on. 

The sandboard easily straps to his pack, but it takes some maneuvering to tie the sled to Louis’ backpack. They set off, heading for the smaller dune first. When they get there, there are a few families with children, and while they do stop to say hello, they continue on around the lakes to the big dune. Neither of them have ever been snowboarding, and they don’t want to accidentally injure anyone else. Louis also doesn’t want to injure himself, but Harry seems excited about the prospect of falling down a five hundred foot hill. 

At the big dune, they’ve hiked about halfway around the six mile loop, and when they climb to the top, they take off their backpacks, unstrap the sled and sandboard, and sit down on them to rest. 

“Normally, I don't really like Gatorade, but this is the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth,” Harry says, tipping his head back to get the last bit out of the bottle. 

Most of the time he can’t tell if Harry’s fucking with him, flirting with him, or if he just means some of the ridiculous things that he says. So he flicks the remaining drops of Gatorade from his bottle onto Harry’s face. It backfires. Harry opens his mouth wide, closing his eyes, and sticking his tongue out, sending Louis’ mind straight to the gutter. 

Clapping his hands, Louis says, “Right. Record me.”

He gets to his feet, putting their empty bottles in his backpack, and digging out the GoPro and head strap and setting them on top. When Harry stands, aiming the camera at him, and winking obnoxiously, Louis rolls his eyes. 

“One of the things that you can do here at Bruneau Dunes is rent sleds and sandboards to ride down the dunes,” Louis says, lifting them up one at a time to show the camera. “Now, we’ve been told that the sled is faster, so I’m actually going to try the sandboard first. Harold, can you aim at my feet?”

Harry does as he asks, and Louis demonstrates strapping himself to the board. Of course, once he’s strapped to the board, he’s much less steady on his feet. 

“Okay, so I’m definitely going to fall,” Louis says, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “And we’re supposed to try to fall on our, um… backsides.”

“Backsides,” Harry repeats, snorting quietly. 

“Bums? Whatever,” Louis says, fighting not to roll his eyes again. “This is a family show, Harold.”

“Or is it?” Harry asks, dragging the words out. 

“I guess that’s really up to Niall,” Louis says. “Anyway. Basically, we want to land on our butts because we don’t want to faceplant into the sand. It’s softer than snow, but obviously sand isn’t going to melt, and we don’t want to get it in our eyes.”

“We did bring extra water,” Harry says.

“That we did. Neither of us have much faith that we’ll make it through today without wiping out and eating dirt,” Louis says, shrugging and carefully bending over to get the GoPro. He straps it to his head, and it conveniently keeps his hair back out of his face. “Here we go!”

About ten feet down, Louis falls for the first time. He does manage to land on his ass. And his back. And his side. He loses count of the number of times he’s fallen when he reaches the bottom of the dune, but he didn’t land on his face. 

The climb back up sucks. It’s nearly impossible to walk in the soft sand and his hiking boots feel heavier with each step. When he gets to the top, Harry takes the sandboard, and sits, strapping it to his own feet. 

“You want to wear this?” Louis asks, tapping the camera on his head.

“Not really,” Harry says, shading his eyes with his hand. “You think any of your footage will be usable? You fell down twenty-eight times.”

“You counted?” Louis asks, brushing some of the sand off his ass. It’s pointless. His pockets are full of the stuff. 

“Yep,” Harry says proudly, bending his knees and pushing himself up to stand. He hops around so he’s facing the right direction, and then hops forward, falling onto his hands and knees before he even gets started down the hill. 

“One!” Louis counts, holding up a finger when Harry gets back to his feet. 

He falls thirty-two times. 

As stubborn as they both are, they spend the next few hours taking turns on the sandboard, getting better at balancing, and finally at steering. Neither of them land on their faces. They take a few turns with the sled, too, which is definitely faster, and gives Harry an idea for racing down the dune. 

Harry balances on the sandboard on his bum, holding onto one of the straps, and Louis sits on the sled. They count to three and push off, flying over the sand. 

Throwing his head back, Louis laughs, and when he turns to look behind him at Harry, Harry lifts his hand to wave, which throws him off-balance. He falls over sideways. The board goes one way and Harry goes the other, rolling down the dune, spinning fast and surrounded by clouds of sand. Louis leans to the side, tipping his sled, and as soon as it slows to a stop, he starts climbing towards Harry, who at least didn’t roll all the way to the bottom.

“Harold!” Louis yells, trudging through the hot sand. “You okay?”

Harry lifts his arm and waves, but doesn’t move otherwise. He spits sand out of his mouth and says, “Got sand on my face.”

“In your eyes?” Louis asks as he approaches.

“Not yet,” Harry says, wiping the sand off his face, but not doing a very good job of it. “That’s why my eyes are staying closed.”

“You want me to bring you water?” Louis asks, lowering himself to his knees beside Harry when he shakes his head. He pulls his shirt over his head, and turns it inside out. It does a better job cleaning Harry’s face that his sand covered hands do, but his eyelashes are still practically orange with sand, and the rest of his face—his whole body, actually—looks like… Well, he looks like he rolled around in sand. He finally sits up, groaning, and Louis says, “Alright. Just, um… Okay. Stay here for a second. I’ll go grab the board. Then I’ll be back and I’ll help you up.”

A few minutes later, with his arm around Harry’s waist, they make their way to the top of the dune, and Louis does his best to wash the sand away from Harry’s eyes with a water bottle and his t-shirt. Harry blinks slowly, then blinks so fast that Louis laughs. He snatches the water bottle from Louis’ hand and pours the rest of it on his face, blinking while it runs over his eyes. Satisfied, he gives the bottle back to Louis, shaking his head and sending sand flying. 

“That was fun,” Harry says, and he sounds like he means it. 

“Was it?” Louis asks, shouldering his backpack. 

“Yeah, except for that last part,” Harry says, combing his fingers through his tangled curls, and making a face at the sand that sticks to his hand. 

It’s about three miles back to their campsite. When they get there, they head straight for the showers. 

“I’m disappointed we can’t go to the observatory,” Harry says, and Louis drops his shampoo.

“Jesus Christ, Harold,” Louis says, carefully picking his shampoo up to lather his hair for the third, and hopefully, final time. “I didn’t know you were right next to me.”

“Surprise!” Harry sings, and Louis knows he’s doing jazz hands. “Did you get all the sand out of your hair? I had to use a bunch of conditioner. It seemed to make it more… slippery or something. It helped.”

“Thanks,” Louis says, rinsing his hair again. “I’ll try that. Did you get all the sand out of your eyeballs?”

“Shut up,” Harry mutters, but then he laughs. “Oh my god, there’s still sand in my ears. It's in my nose... This is the worst. Wonder if they, like, recycle the sand. Like, does it wash down the drain, get filtered out, and put back on the dunes?” 

“Your mind…” Louis checks his own ears which still have sand in them, and growls quietly, tilting his head to try to rinse them out. “Your mind is a fascinating place.”

“Thanks, Lou,” Harry says brightly, and Louis sticks his face under the water, happy to have made Harry happy, yet embarrassed at his own happiness. 

Earlier, on the walk back, he must've gotten sunburned on his shoulders because they’re sore and when the water hits them, it stings a bit, so he washes them gently. It takes forever to get clean, and after they walk back to their camper, Louis tugs his shirt off, and goes looking for the sunburn relief gel in the fridge. 

“What’s that on your back?” Harry asks, leaning over Louis where he’s leaning over in front of the fridge looking for the aloe gel. 

“Sunburn,” Louis says, standing up and knocking the back of his head into Harry’s face. 

Harry pinches his hip and Louis squeals, smacking his hand, but Harry doesn’t move, and Louis can’t turn around. “That’s a scrape. It’s not… It’s on both sides. Right where the straps to your backpack go.”

“Oh… Maybe since I didn’t have my shirt on… and with the sand,” Louis says, craning his neck to look at it, but he can’t see much, and Harry’s right there, barely inches away, brow furrowed as he sucks his lower lip between his teeth and studies Louis’ shoulder. “I’m sure it’s fine. I won’t put that sunburn stuff on it though.”

“Hold on,” Harry says, finally backing up and allowing Louis enough space to shut the fridge. A moment later, he emerges from the storage closet with bandages and wound cleanser and antibiotic ointment.

“What are you doing?” Louis asks, trying not to laugh at him because he looks so serious.

“Turn around,” Harry says.

“Bossy,” Louis says, but he turns around. It stings when Harry cleans the scrapes, but he’s careful and doesn’t rub them too roughly. 

“There was still some sand, like, stuck in your skin,” Harry explains, patting Louis’ shoulders dry with a paper towel. 

“Thanks, Harold,” Louis says, reaching for his shirt where he tossed it on the bed.

“Not done,” Harry says, gripping Louis’ hips until he stands up straight again. Turning his head, Louis watches him apply ointment to his scrapes, but he has to look away when Harry pokes the tip of his tongue out, like he needs to concentrate on opening a Band-Aid. He places one bandage over each scrape, smoothing his thumbs over them, and then he slides his hands over Louis’ shoulders and down his biceps. 

Afraid to breathe in Harry’s hold, Louis stays perfectly still, closing his eyes and waiting for Harry to let him go. Harry squeezes Louis’ arms, and gently presses his lips to the bandage on his shoulder. Louis’ eyes fly open, but he doesn’t move as Harry kisses his other shoulder, and releases him. 

“Sorry,” Harry whispers, his warmth disappearing as he backs away. 

Heart racing, Louis grabs his shirt and pulls it over his head, climbing up to sit on the edge of the big bed. He takes a deep breath, blowing it out slowly, and slumps forward, gripping the edge of the mattress. 

Over the weeks, as the tension between them continued to grow, Louis knew he wasn’t imagining it, but thought if anything happened between them it would be fast and rough, driven by passion and desire. He shakes his head and smiles.

“Harold, did you just kiss my booboos?”

Harry snorts, tipping his head back and covering his eyes with both hands. “I said sorry.”

“Are you?” Louis asks, relieved when Harry shakes his head, dropping his hands from his blushing face, and turning away. As much as he wants to list the reasons nothing should happen between them, he won’t. Harry knows them all as well as he does. Instead, he says, “I can’t, um, I don’t want to be a rebound.”

“Never,” Harry says, gaze steady on Louis as he comes closer, until his knees bump against the dinette bench, and Louis can see the flecks of gold in the green of his eyes. “I don’t… It wouldn’t be like that.”

“What would it be like?” Louis whispers.

“I, um…” Harry clears his throat, then giggles, pressing his lips together, and Louis sits up so fast he hits his head on the ceiling of the camper. “Shit, Lou, are you okay?”

“Don’t fucking laugh, Harry, I—”

“No!” Harry softens his voice, shaking his head. “I wasn’t laughing like that. I… I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long and I kissed your shoulders. Like… How embarrassing.”

Rubbing the sore spot on his head, Louis says, “It’s sweet.”

“Yeah?” Harry bites his lower lip, looking up at him, and Louis nods. Steadying himself, he leans forward and tugs the collar of Harry’s shirt to the side, pressing a chaste kiss to his shoulder. He does the same to the other side, and sits up, waiting for Harry to say something. “I, um… What I was trying to say was, I… I guess I don’t know what it’d be like. Sort of like it is now, probably, but with, like, more.”

“More?” Louis asks, unsure what he wants Harry to say. 

“I don’t know, Lou,” Harry says, huffing and clenching his jaw. He rests his hands on Louis’ thighs, lightly squeezing his muscles. “I don’t know what _you_ want. And there’s, like, our jobs to think about, and this trip, and I’m supposed to move in with you and Niall. And now things are going to be all weird because I kissed your fucking Band-Aids.”

Laughter bubbles up and Louis can’t keep it down. He thinks maybe he gets what had Harry giggling earlier. It’s absurd. When his laughter dies down, he hooks his finger under Harry’s chin and tips his head up, rubbing his thumb over his lip until he stops chewing on it. 

“Kiss me,” Louis says softly, cradling Harry’s jaw, and bending down to meet his mouth. It’s sweet and careful, the way first kisses should be, and when Harry presses forward, it’s everything Louis has dreamed of over the past three years. His body’s a live wire, electricity zinging through, and with nowhere else to go, it travels back and forth between them. Harry climbs onto the bench on his knees between Louis’ legs, cupping the back of his neck and tilting his head as he licks over the seam of Louis’ lips. 

Fingers in Harry’s curls, Louis pulls his hair, breaking the kiss and nudging their noses together before kissing him once more.

“Why couldn’t you be a horrible kisser?” Louis asks, sighing quietly. Not that he’d really care if Harry’s kisses were slobbery or too dry.

“I can try,” Harry offers, sounding sincere, but Louis shakes his head. His stomach rumbles and he holds his hand to it. 

“Did you say we’re having taco salad?” Louis asks, and Harry nods, stepping back off the bench. 

“Yeah, shouldn’t take long,” Harry says, opening the fridge and knocking it into Louis’ knee. He looks up at Louis, then bends down to kiss his knee. “So… What is this?”

“This is us seeing what happens,” Louis says honestly. “We’re at our halfway point and I’m not sick of you yet. We just… We have to be careful. Talk more.”

“We talk a lot,” Harry says, and they do. 

“Not about this,” Louis says, sliding down to the dinette bench. “We figure out what we want to do, and then we do it, I guess.”

“Okay,” Harry says, closing the fridge and getting out of the way to let Louis stand up. 

They don’t actually talk about what they want that night. Louis can’t bring himself to say the word ‘everything’ because it’s too heavy and too stupid and too soon. But Harry doesn’t tell him anything either, and Louis wonders if they’re thinking the same thing. 

Dinner is quiet, and when Gemma calls Harry while Louis is cleaning up afterwards, he can’t help but think that Harry texted her when Louis wasn’t paying attention, asking her to rescue him. While Harry’s gone, Louis sets up the dinette bed for him, and tries his best to actually fall asleep before he climbs back into the camper. 

Unfortunately, his mind won’t let him, and he’s still awake long after Harry whispers, “Lou? You awake?” and then turns off the lights and climbs into the dinette bed when Louis doesn’t answer. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fic post](https://kingsofeverything.tumblr.com/post/630877050004209664/by-kingsofeverything-with-fantastic-art-by)


	4. Chapter 4

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

After a shitty night’s sleep, the last thing Louis wants to do on Friday morning is drive almost seven hours to Bend, Oregon, where they’re planning to stay in a Walmart parking lot for the first time. He’d almost rather drive the full nine hours to Silver Falls State Park, but their reservation is for Saturday and Sunday night, so they wouldn’t have a campsite to stay in anyway. 

He wakes up grumpy because in order to not think about Harry the previous night, he forced himself to think about how miserable he’ll be Friday night with no air conditioning, parked beside a busy road, with bright flood lights shining on their camper. He actually fell asleep silently debating whether it would be worse to have the windows closed and be hot in the dark, or to have the windows open, letting the light, sound, and a little bit of breeze in. Either way, he fully plans to be miserable and complain about it. 

In their seventh week, their routines are pretty solid, so when they wake up, they do the usual: eat a quick breakfast, clean up, brush their teeth, unhook the power and water from the camper, visit the bathroom one last time, and get on the road. 

It’s Harry’s turn to drive first, and he has the habit of talking Louis’ ear off, so the second Louis shuts the passenger door, he leans his seat back, hoping to sleep so that he doesn’t have to talk or think. When Harry gets behind the wheel, Louis lies, “I have a headache. Wake me up when it’s my turn to drive.”

Exhaustion and the hum of the tires on the road put him to sleep, and Louis wakes up alone in the truck, in the parking lot of a gas station. Yawning, he sits up, reaching for his water. According to his phone, they’re just over the Oregon stateline, and he was asleep for less than two hours. He didn’t think they’d need to stop for gas yet, and his brain is slow to catch up. 

Harry opens the door and slides back behind the wheel. “Oh, sorry. I tried not to wake you.”

“It’s fine,” Louis says, staring at his phone and not looking at Harry. “Why’d you stop? Thought we’d make it at least halfway before we needed gas.”

“We’re about to get off the interstate, and I wanted to fill up since we’ll be driving through some stretches where there’s like, nothing for miles.” When Louis hums and nods without looking up from his phone, Harry starts the engine, and as he pulls back onto the road, he says, faster than he usually speaks, “Lou, I, um… I feel like you’re mad at me, but I can’t tell ’cause I don’t think you’ve ever been mad at me before, and I don’t know what that looks like? So, if you actually have a bad headache, I think you should take something. But if you’re upset with me, I think you should talk to me, ’cause I don’t know what I did, unless it’s the whole having feelings for you thing, in which case, I’m not sure what you want me to do or, like, say, because I can’t _not_ have feelings for you. They’re just… there. And I’m sorry if—”

“Oh my god, Harold. I’m not mad at you,” Louis says, hiding his face in his hands. “I’m… confused, I guess.”

“Confused, like, about why we kissed or about why I have feelings for you or about something else?” Harry asks, and Louis sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Something else,” Louis says, looking out of the window instead of over at Harry.

“Is it your sexuality?” Harry asks, and Louis pinches the bridge of his nose, turning to look at him.

“No,” he says slowly, but then Harry sticks his tongue out at him, and Louis rolls his eyes.

“I can keep guessing or you could just tell me,” Harry says.

Louis takes a deep breath, and says, “I don’t know what we’re doing.”

“Neither do I,” Harry says with a shrug. “You said we’d talk about it, which is what I’m trying to do, but you’re being all quiet and weird and—”

“Fuck off,” Louis says.

“If that’s what you want,” Harry says, huffing and turning on the radio.

“It’s not,” Louis says, reaching up and turning the radio off again.

“Then what do you want?” Harry asks.

Instead of answering, Louis turns the question around. “What do _you_ want?”

“You, dummy,” Harry answers, shaking his head like Louis is the one being a pain in the ass. 

“You say that like it’s not a super vague answer that’s basically open to interpretation, except I’m not— I don’t know how to interpret it, Harry.”

Harry glances over, line between his eyebrows, lips pursed. “Okay. Let's start simple. I want you to be the Louis who sits at the desk across from me and sometimes brings me coffee and makes fun of my favorite salad. And I want you to also be the Louis on this trip who tickled me until I almost threw up and who held my hand in a hot air balloon and who cleaned the sand out of my eyes. And, even though you have, like, some other guy out there with like ‘circumstances’ or whatever keeping you apart, I want you to be my boyfriend. At least for a little while.”

“Harold,” Louis says, pressing his fist to his lips and closing his eyes as the feeling of relief settles over him.

“What?”

“The circumstances are that he, well, he _had_ a boyfriend. And we work together,” Louis says, raising his eyebrows, and waiting for his words to sink in. 

“Oh…” Harry scrunches his nose and twists his lips, but can’t hide his smile. “It’s me.”

“Yeah, it’s you,” Louis says, reaching over and patting Harry’s thigh. “Dummy.”

“How was I supposed to know?” Harry asks incredulously, grabbing Louis’ hand when he tries to take it away, and putting it back on his thigh. He rests his own hand on top of Louis’ and gives it a quick squeeze. 

“You weren’t supposed to know,” Louis says, staring at his hand on Harry’s leg. 

“How long?” Harry asks, and Louis scoffs, digging his fingertips into his inner thigh.

“Like a week. Maybe two,” Louis says, and Harry laughs. 

“I know that’s a lie,” Harry says, rubbing his thumb over Louis’ knuckles. But he doesn’t ask again. 

Louis’ hand stays right where it is until they stop a couple of hours later for lunch. They switch places so Louis can drive, and when Harry climbs in the passenger door, he slides to the middle of the bench seat, presses up against Louis’ side, and buckles himself in. 

Unsure what to do with his right arm after he starts the truck, Louis holds the steering wheel tightly and tries not to jostle Harry. “What are you doing?”

“Sitting beside my boyfriend,” Harry says, pushing up Louis’ sleeve and kissing his shoulder. “Duh.”

“Oh,” Louis says, blush rising up his neck. He lifts his arm, laying it across the back of the seat behind Harry, and Harry snuggles closer. 

“I was actually planning to turn on the camera, so…” Harry turns his head, lips brushing Louis’ ear. “Unless you want to tell the whole world, maybe try to look a little less happy to have me up in your personal space.”

“I’m always happy to have you close to me, Harold,” Louis says, but he does remove his arm from Harry’s shoulders. “I can try to pretend otherwise, but I don’t know if it’ll be convincing.”

Harry adjusts the camera on the dash, frowning at it until he’s satisfied. He sits back, waving at it. “Hello! We’re on our way to Silver Falls State Park in Oregon.”

“It’s a long drive,” Louis says, winking at the camera. 

“It is. And we’re at our halfway point in the trip! We just left our twenty-fourth park. And I think they're going to put this up as, like, a special episode. We’re going to record a little bit while we’re on the road, and answer some questions that Niall sent us,” Harry says, waving his phone at the camera. “Since these episodes are going up once a week, there are only like five up so far.”

Harry pats his leg, and Louis says, “Yeah, we’re in week seven, so that sounds right.”

“That means that the next episode is…” Frowning at his phone, Harry hums, and a moment later he says, “Ooh! Maine’s next!”

“Clamming is gross,” Louis says, pointing at the camera. “But the clams were good, and Harold almost set himself on fire.”

“You saved me, Lou,” Harry says, smiling at him and batting his eyelashes. 

“If you say so, Harold,” Louis says, shaking his head.

“You did,” Harry insists, leaning closer to the camera. “He did.”

“You tried to climb into the campfire.”

“I did not! I was trying to save your clam.”

“My clam didn’t need saving.”

“Agree to disagree,” Harry says, leaning back again. “And you make it sound like I went _in_ the fire.”

“You totally went in the fire.”

“Lewis! You’re lying and people are going to know because the video goes up this week.”

“Harold walked right through a massive wall of fire,” Louis says, pressing his lips together and trying not to laugh.

“Not that I wouldn’t, like, walk through fire for you,” Harry says, squeezing Louis’ thigh. “But I didn’t. Anyway. Niall went through the comments and picked five questions for us to answer. We talked about this recently, but since that video won’t go up for a few months, you guys don’t know that we don’t read the comments or watch the videos. We decided at the start that we would sort of avoid all of that, and that’s why Niall sent us questions. Ready?”

“Ready,” Louis says. 

“Question number one: Have you gotten into any fights or arguments?” Harry reads from Niall’s email, gently elbowing Louis. “We haven’t, have we?”

“No, I don’t think we have,” Louis says, scratching his beard along his jaw. “But we’re a lot alike, and we talk about stuff, so we don’t have any misunderstandings.”

“Communication is key!” Harry gives the camera two thumbs up and a cheesy grin. “Question number two: What do your friends and families think of you taking this trip together? Louis, you want to answer first?”

“Sure, yeah,” Louis says, clearing his throat. “My friends think I’m an idiot and my family mostly thinks the same.”

“Really? Why?” Harry asks, turning slightly towards him. 

“Because you’re really smelly.”

“I’m not smelly.”

“You’re not smelly, no,” Louis agrees, not answering Harry’s question. “You go.”

“Oh, um… My sister was thrilled because she gets our apartment to herself all summer. My mom was worried we’d get lost or I’d fall off a mountain or something. My friends, um…” Harry clicks his tongue, then says, “Well, the ones who were supportive about the trip and happy for me when I was excited about it, they probably think I’m a little crazy because they wouldn’t want to do a trip like this. And the ones who weren’t supportive aren’t my friends anymore.”

Louis’ eyes go wide, sure that Harry’s talking about Bryan. “Next question?”

“Question number three: How is your friendship holding up?” Grinning, Harry says, “It’s good! We’re better friends now than we were before, and we’ve known each other for three years, so… What do you think, Lou?”

“We’re closer now, yeah, for sure,” Louis says, trying to ignore Harry tracing circles on his thigh. “Like I said, we have to talk a lot to make sure the trip goes smoothly, and there’s also been, like, some… let’s call them incidents? Where we've had to kind of depend on each other.”

“Oh, like the cave?”

“The cave. That sounds so spooky,” Louis says, jerking his leg away when Harry tickles him. “But yeah, that and the hot air balloon. Some of the stuff we’re doing is really new to both of us, like tent camping—”

“Oh my god, yeah. We bonded over our intense dislike of tent camping,” Harry says. “Question number four: What’s your favorite park so far? Too hard. Can’t answer.”

“Wyoming, maybe?” Louis offers, though his legs hurt at the memory of the chafing. 

“That’s a good one, Lou,” Harry says, adding, “That’s Sinks Canyon State Park.”

“Alright, last question, Harold. Make it a good one.”

“Okay. Last, but not least. Drumroll please,” Harry says, and Louis obliges, doing his best to mimic a drumroll on the steering wheel. “Question number five: What is the most fun activity you’ve done so far?”

“Wyoming again. The natural waterslide,” Louis responds quickly. “It was so cool, and I hope the videos are good.”

“That’s my second favorite,” Harry says, wrinkling his nose like he has to sneeze. “I’m going with sandboarding and sledding down the Bruneau Dunes.”

“Yeah?” Louis asks, and Harry nods, turning his head and winking, hopefully where the camera can’t see.

“That’s it, people,” Harry says to the camera. “Niall, I hope you're making us look good.”

“He better,” Louis says, and Harry reaches for the camera, turning it off. “I didn’t realize you liked the dunes so much. We didn’t have to hike back when we did. We could’ve stayed after you washed out your eyes.”

Harry leans in and leaves a lingering kiss on Louis’ cheek. “It wasn’t the dunes that were my favorite. It was after.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Harry says, rubbing his thumb over Louis’ jaw. “Is it okay if I nap? I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Of course, Harold,” Louis says, as Harry slides over to the passenger seat and lowers the back down. “You don’t have to ask me if you can nap.”

“I thought you might want to talk some more.”

“We can talk tonight,” Louis says, stretching his arm across the truck cab and taking Harry’s hand. He lifts it, kissing his palm, and Harry smiles, lacing their fingers together. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

Harry sleeps the rest of the way to Bend, Oregon, but when Louis pulls into the Walmart parking lot where they’re supposed to spend the night, he wakes Harry up. 

“Oh, we’re here?” Harry sits up, rubbing his eyes, and quietly claps his hands. 

“Yeah, but…” Louis points to the sign in front of the truck, and reads, “‘No Overnight Parking.’”

“That can’t be right,” Harry says, picking up his phone. 

Louis waits patiently, letting himself play with Harry’s messy curls for the first time, twirling them around his fingers, and scratching Harry’s scalp, which he leans into like a cat. “Waiting for you to start purring.”

“Meow,” Harry says instead, still frowning at his phone. “Shit, Lou. You’re going to hate me. I fucked up.”

“I could never hate you,” Louis says, tugging on one of the curls at the nape of Harry’s neck.

Harry doesn’t say anything, just turns in his seat, and hands Louis his phone. On the screen is a map of Oregon and a picture of the Walmart they’re parked in front of. 

“What is this?” Louis asks, huffing a little laugh at the idea of a map of Walmarts. 

“It’s an RV website that tells you which Walmarts will let you stay overnight and which ones won’t,” Harry says, brow furrowed as he takes his phone back. “They don’t _all_ let you stay. I didn’t know. I thought… I could’ve sworn my grandpa said it was like a corporate thing, but also that was years ago. I should’ve asked someone or, like, Googled it. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Harold,” Louis says, cupping Harry’s chin in his hand and lifting it so they’re eye to eye. “We’ll figure it out. We’re only like three hours from the park. Maybe they’ll have space.”

“I’ll call,” Harry says, sighing as he searches for the number. “I’m really sorry. I’ll have to check the other Walmarts too. God, this is such a pain in the ass.”

“I promise, it’s not a big deal, babe,” Louis says, reaching for his own phone. While Harry calls the park, he can go through their list and check over the Walmarts. 

“Thank you,” Harry whispers, scooting across the seat and kissing Louis’ cheek. “Babe.”

“Welcome,” Louis says, heart beating a little harder. He hadn't even noticed he said it. It just slipped out. 

He doesn’t get far through the list before Harry hangs up his phone and throws a mini-fit, stomping his feet on the truck floor, growling, and beating his fists against his seat. He whines incoherently, and lets his head fall back. “They’re full. They don’t have a space for us.”

“Good, ’cause I don’t want to spend three more hours on the road,” Louis says, poking Harry in the ribs until he giggles, jerking away. “Why don’t you see if there are any local campgrounds while I finish going over our list of Walmarts. So far, we’re good to stay at the next two, but the one in Arizona is a no.”

“Okay,” Harry agrees, and they settle into their seats to do that. 

Louis has good luck finding alternative places to stay until he gets to Florida, and then he climbs out of the truck to call Niall while Harry’s on the phone with one of the local campgrounds. When he gets back in the truck, Harry’s off the phone, and looking miserable.

“You want me to go first?” Louis asks, and Harry nods. “Okay. There were like four Walmarts on our list that don’t allow overnight stays, but I found other ones that are close enough that it doesn’t make much of a difference.”

“That’s good,” Harry says, chewing his lip until Louis reaches over and taps it with his index finger. “We have two choices. They both suck.”

“Okay? You have to tell me more than that, Harold.”

“Fuck. Okay. One of the campgrounds here has a space, but it’s a two night minimum, and it’s expensive. Like, two hundred fifty dollars. The second option is to drive to St. Helens, Oregon, which is like four hours away, and stay at a Walmart there. I checked and they let people stay overnight. Then it’ll be two more hours tomorrow to Silver Falls.”

If he could swing it, he’d choose the campground, but as it is… “I guess we drive to St. Helens. Unless you’d rather stay at the campground.”

“Whatever you want to do, Lou,” Harry says, not looking at him. “I’m sorry for screwing this up.”

“Shit happens, man,” Louis says, because it does, and there’s nothing they can do about it. “But the rest of the trip is taken care of. We had one tiny blip. We’ll be a little tired tomorrow. So what?”

“I’m mad at myself,” Harry says, tossing his phone into the cup holder, and crossing his arms. “I thought, while we were here, we could visit the last Blockbuster, and like, I don’t know, rent a movie. But now we’ve got a four hour drive.”

“We don’t have a television.”

“We have a laptop,” Harry says.

“Does it have a DVD drive?” Louis asks, pretty sure that it doesn’t.

“I don't think so. I just wanted to see it, so I could say I’d been there.”

“The last Blockbuster? Like, on earth?” Louis asks, putting the truck into reverse, and backing out of the parking space. 

“Yep. The very last one,” Harry says.

“Tell me where to turn, Harold,” Louis says, pulling up to the stoplight. “I want to see the last Blockbuster on earth.”

“Really?” Harry asks, and when Louis nods, he sits up, fumbling for his phone. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

“Oh, wow,” Harry says, pushing his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose and pointing at the big, blue sign. “Talk about nostalgia.”

Louis carefully parks in the far corner of the parking lot, backing the truck into the spot. “When I was a kid, my mom would drive us to Blockbuster and it was, like, an event.”

“Gemma and I would each get to pick a movie,” Harry says, unbuckling his seatbelt when Louis turns off the truck. “Hey, wait.”

“What?”

“Thanks for bringing me here,” Harry says, grinning and showing both dimples. “Can I, um… Can I kiss you?”

Nodding, Louis says, “Can’t believe you just asked me that.”

Harry shrugs, turning towards him and pulling his legs up underneath him, kneeling on the seat. “We’re obviously taking things sort of slowly, and I didn’t know—”

“Harold, you can kiss me whenever you want,” Louis says, pushing his sunglasses up to hold back his hair. “I’ve got like two months worth of beard and my mustache is so long, I bit it this morning at breakfast, but yours is getting there, too, so…”

“It is, isn’t it?” Harry scratches at his patchy beard, which is longer and thicker than Louis has ever seen it.

“Kind of look like a pirate,” Louis says, petting Harry’s chin. “The one on the rum bottle. Captain Morgan.”

“You should shut up, if you want me to kiss you,” Harry says, taking off his sunglasses and crawling closer to Louis. 

Louis mimes zipping his mouth closed, locking it, and throwing away the key, but the effect is ruined by the mustache hairs that get caught between his lips. He spits them out, and says, “It’s really too long. I need to shave.”

“You could just trim it,” Harry suggests, cradling Louis’ jaw and leaning in. “We have scissors. We’d have to buy a razor.”

“Maybe,” Louis says, and their lips brush together. Humming, Louis reaches for Harry, hands slipping under his loose tank top accidentally, finding his waist on instinct. He rubs his thumbs over the softness of Harry’s hips, and Harry tilts his head, pushing closer, lips parted. Heart beating harder, Louis pulls Harry to him, and he falls into the steering wheel, blaring the horn. 

Giggling, Harry shifts away from the steering wheel, and Louis helps him sit back up. He kisses Louis again, balancing himself with one hand on the steering wheel, and one on the back of Louis’ seat, then nudges Louis’ jawline with his nose, kissing his neck. 

“Ready to go inside?” Harry asks.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Louis says, checking the time. “And maybe we can walk around somewhere, just to stretch our legs, before we get back on the road.”

As soon as Harry climbs out of the truck, Louis sighs, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back. It’s a good thing they have a schedule to keep, because he could spend days kissing Harry. And he doesn’t see how they’re going to keep this to themselves once they’re back in DC, especially living with Niall. Eventually, the secret will get out, news will spread, and one or both of them will be out of a job. 

Louis joins Harry on the sidewalk, and the first thing Harry wants to do is pose for a picture in front of the sign. Then he wants a picture of Louis. Then he wants a selfie of the two of them together. Standing behind Louis, Harry wraps one arm around Louis’ chest, and stretches the other out, angling his phone. “Say ‘Blockbuster!’” 

“Is this what I have to look forward to?” Louis asks after Harry’s satisfied with his pictures. “Selfies everywhere we go?”

“Oh, um…” Harry sucks his lower lip between his teeth, brow furrowed.

“Kidding, Harold,” Louis says, darting his hand out to poke Harry in the ribs. “Take a million pictures. Just, um… take some with my phone, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, babe,” Louis says, brushing his hair off his forehead. “Come on. The last Blockbuster awaits.”

The door chimes when they step inside, and they’re greeted by a cheery, “Hello! Welcome to Blockbuster!”

“Hi,” Harry says, waving at the girl behind the counter.

“Hello,” Louis says, nodding and waving when she doesn’t move or stop smiling at them. He catches up with Harry in the romantic comedy section of the store, standing beside him and resting a hand on his lower back. 

“This is so weird,” Harry says, picking up a copy of _Emma_ and turning it over in his hands. 

“They have merchandise,” Louis says, pointing to the t-shirts hanging on the wall that read ‘The Last Blockbuster On the Planet’ on one side, with the movie ticket logo on the other.

“We should get a membership,” Harry says, putting _Emma_ back on the shelf. “I wonder how much it costs.”

“I think I want a Blockbuster hat,” Louis says, heading for the merchandise display case near the front of the store. 

“Is it overkill if I get the hoodie, t-shirt, and the sweatpants?” Harry asks, holding up a blue hoodie. 

“They have magnets,” Louis says, tapping the side of the cooler full of sodas where the magnets are displayed. “We should get one for the camper fridge.”

“Excuse me,” the girl behind the counter says, pointing at Harry and then Louis. “I’m sorry if this is weird, but aren’t you guys Louis and Harry from _Have Road, Will Travel?”_

Louis’ eyes go wide, and Harry drops the Blockbuster tote bag dangling from his fingertips. It never occurred to Louis that someone might recognize them, and he suddenly feels very self conscious, fiddling with his hair, and clearing his throat twice. 

“We are,” Harry says, bending down to pick up the bag and setting it, along with the rest of his haul, on the counter before reaching across to shake her hand. “I’m Harry.”

“Piper,” she says, smiling and blushing and giggling. 

Louis shakes her hand and says, “Nice to meet you, Piper. I take it you’ve watched whatever nonsense Niall’s posted on YouTube.”

“It’s not nonsense,” Piper says, blindly reaching under the counter and pulling out a membership application form. “It’s great! My mom works for the NPS at the Newberry Volcano and she wants you to do a series on national parks next.”

“We’ll see how this goes,” Louis says, shaking his head. 

“You think we’re doing a good job, though?” Harry asks, resting his forearms on the counter, and bumping their hips together. 

“Yeah, it’s great,” she says, sliding the application form and an official Blockbuster pen across the counter. “It’s supposed to be two dollars per card, but like, my manager’s not here, and she’ll never know.”

Harry snorts, covering his face with his hands, but Louis narrows his eyes and says, “We’ll pay the four dollars.”

“Lou, she’s just being nice,” Harry says, picking up the pen and starting on the form.

“Don’t put your real phone number, Harold.”

Piper’s mouth drops open, and she crosses her arms. “I wouldn’t, like, call you guys or text you or sell your info. I swear.” 

“Mmhmm…” Louis nods, but doesn’t say anything.

“I wouldn’t,” she insists, and starts ringing up Harry’s items. “One hundred forty-seven dollars and eighty-two cents.”

“Few more dollars and we could’ve stayed at the campground,” Harry says, taking his bag, and standing aside while Piper rings up Louis’ hat and magnet. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Louis says, “Besides, it’s not the same thing. We get to keep this stuff.”

“Where are you staying?” Piper asks, handing Louis his bag and receipt. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Louis says, pulling his hat out of the bag and putting it on. 

“Nowhere here,” Harry says, tugging the brim of Louis’ hat down over his eyes. “We had a little issue with our itinerary.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. You know, um… My mom could probably get you guys a campsite at her park,” she says, tapping her fingers on the countertop. “The cards take just a minute to print up, and then I’ll laminate them.”

“Are you serious? About your mom, I mean,” Harry says, elbowing Louis. 

“Harold, I don’t know if that’s—”

“Yeah, I could ask her! There’s like three campgrounds there, but it’s Friday, so they might be full, but I can—” Piper picks up her phone and says, “I’ll call her right now!”

“Oh my god, Harold,” Louis whispers, dragging him away from the counter. “What have you done?”

“What?” Harry shrugs, following Louis to the other side of the store. “She’s nice.”

“She’s going to take our membership applications home and frame them and light candles around them.”

“She’s not going to build a shrine,” Harry says, rolling his eyes. “She’s a sweet kid. And she’s a fan. We have fans!”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Louis says, leaning sideways to look at Piper talking excitedly on her phone. “Who would be a fan of us? Sounds fake.”

“I would be a fan of you,” Harry says, swinging his Blockbuster bag back and forth. “I _am_ a fan of you.”

“You sound and look like a serial killer right now,” Louis says, though he can’t stop his smile. “It’s just weird, okay? I didn’t expect anyone to know us, and now she’s offering us a place to stay?”

“Coincidence,” Harry says. “Serendipity.”

“She says there’s a campsite!” Piper yells across the store, waving her phone. “Someone cancelled.”

Louis hits Harry with his bag, and says, “If we wind up locked in her basement, I’m going to murder you.”

“Okay,” Harry says, grinning maniacally. “But I think it’ll be fine.”

Piper’s mom Natalie does actually work for the National Park Service, and when they get to the park, she meets them at the check-in desk, giving them park maps and directions to their campsite before sending them on their way. 

“That was much easier than I expected,” Louis says, when they start towards the campground. “Do you think Piper is one of our shippers?”

“Oh… I don’t know,” Harry says. “Maybe.”

“Do you want to do anything this afternoon, since we don’t have to spend all day in the car?” Louis asks, glancing over at Harry flipping through the park pamphlets. 

“Kind of want to go to the Lava River Cave,” Harry says, quickly adding, “It’s big, and more than a mile long.”

“Sounds like my ass will fit,” Louis says, and Harry laughs. 

“Ooh… There are hot springs!”

“Which do you want to do first?” Louis asks.

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

It turns out that they have to drive to the Lava River Cave, so almost as soon as they arrive at the park, they have to leave again. According to the pamphlet, the cave is around forty degrees inside, so they pull on hoodies, grab their flashlights and headlamps, and go towards the entrance. 

Just outside and at the beginning of the cave, there are metal steps and walkways leading down, but once they’re properly inside the cave, the sunlight disappears and they need their flashlights. It’s quiet, only the crunching sound of their sneakers on the sandy floor, and though there were a number of people at the visitor’s center, there’s no one close enough that Louis can make out their lights. As far as he can see past the beam of his headlamp, it’s pitch black. 

“This is so cool,” Harry whispers, knuckles bumping the back of Louis’ hand. 

Reaching out in the dark, Louis finds Harry’s arm and slides his hand down, lacing their fingers together. “This okay?”

“Yeah, Lou,” Harry says, squeezing his hand. “You can always touch me.”

They’re quiet on the rest of the walk to the end of the cave, and Harry’s words reverberate in Louis’ ears. They take their time—it’s nice doing something like this and not having to worry about recording or talking it up for the camera—and what’s supposed to be a ninety minute walk takes closer to two hours. When they step into the sunlight again, it’s like a different world. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

Carefully, Louis maneuvers the camper into their campsite. They hook up to the water and power, and climb into the camper to change into their swimsuits. This time, Louis physically covers his eyes when Harry drops his shorts. 

“What exactly do you think is happening?” Harry asks, popping the elastic of his swimsuit. When Louis lowers his hands, he finds Harry standing only inches away.

“I’m, um… I…” Louis frowns, not sure what to say. 

“I’ve had to look at your ass every single time you’ve changed pants, Lewis,” Harry says, shaking his finger at him and poking him in the shoulder. 

“I’m sorry?” Louis offers. He drops onto the bench, immediately regretting that decision because now he’s eye level with Harry’s crotch, and that is not what he was going for. “I, um… I’ve sort of avoided seeing certain parts of you? Like, on purpose. Because I didn’t want to… There’s no way this is going to come out right.”

“What?” Harry asks, smiling down at him, hands on his bare hips. 

“I didn’t want to, like, sexualize you? I was trying to keep a line— a boundary, maybe?” Louis blows out a breath, puffing his cheeks. He can’t help but frown. “I like you, like, a whole lot. And I already want to touch you, like, all the time. Literally, all the time. But I also don’t want you to think that it’s— that this is just a physical thing for me.”

“We’ve kissed like twice,” Harry states. 

“I know that,” Louis says, though in his head he thinks of it as one and a half times. 

“One of them instigated by me,” Harry says, frowning now. He turns around and sits on the bench beside Louis, resting his head on Louis’ shoulder. “I don’t think you’re only into me physically. It’s one of my favorite things about you. You like all of me.”

“I do. All of you is wonderful,” Louis says, kissing the crown of Harry’s head. “But I’m also into you physically.”

“That has got to be the weirdest way of putting that,” Harry says.

“I don’t know. I’m sure I could make it weirder,” Louis says, remembering some of the things he’s thought about Harry’s body, just in the last week. 

“Well, I’m also into _you_ physically.” Harry laughs into Louis’ shoulder, then lowers his voice and says, “For instance, I want to bend you over this table and fuck you until you scream my name.”

Louis sits straight up. “Jesus Christ, Harold.”

“What?” Harry asks innocently. “I also think you’re smart, and kind, and quick, and funny. You’ve got a great sense of humor.”

“Harold.”

“And a really nice ass,” Harry says. 

“You’re not helping. How am I supposed to change clothes now?”

“Dick first?”

“I hate you,” Louis says, completely unable to sound like he’s serious.

“I adore you,” Harry says, and it’s so lovely to hear that Louis’ heart leaps. He can’t help but kiss him. “That’s three. Two for you, one for me.”

“Okay, I’m just going to change. I don’t know why I’m being so weird about it. It’s not like you haven’t seen me naked.”

“I haven't seen your dick,” Harry says, and Louis can feel heat climbing up his chest and neck. 

“Fine. Fine. This is fine,” Louis insists, yanking his shirt over his head and pushing his shorts and boxers down. He kicks them to the side, and reaches for his swimsuit, which is on the bench. “Harold, you’re sitting on my bathing suit.”

“Oh?” Harry stands, and rather than hand it to him, he moves aside, backing up to the counter, so that Louis has to turn sideways to get past him. 

As pink as he knows his face is, Louis refuses to hurry, mostly because he’s sure he’d fall over. He steps into his bathing suit and pulls it up, finally meeting Harry's eyes. 

“Happy?” Louis asks. 

Harry's smirk drops off his face. “Are you?”

“Yeah, I’m— You make me nervous,” Louis admits.

“You didn’t seem nervous until you had to take your clothes off,” Harry says, pursing his lips. “You know we don’t have to have sex, right? Or we can work up to it. I don’t want to pressure you.”

“You’re not,” Louis says, shaking his head, and looking away. “And I think— I think it’s that this is all new and, like, I know how I want to touch you, but I don’t know how you like to be touched, and I also don’t want to rush anything, but at the same time I want to fuck you six ways to Sunday right this instant, so it’s just a very confusing time to be me, I guess.”

“Louis,” Harry whispers, and Louis realizes how close they’re standing. 

In the tiny floor of the camper, with Harry up against the stove, and Louis backed into the dinette table, their toes are almost touching, and there’s nowhere else to go. Hunching over, Harry leans down and kisses Louis’ shoulder, then rests his temple there, pressing his forehead to the side of Louis’ neck. Louis’ hands come up instinctively, wrapping around Harry’s back, and Harry circles his arms around Louis’ waist, holding him lightly, but firmly. 

When Louis combs his fingers through the curls at Harry’s nape, Harry inches closer until they’re chest to chest, breathing in sync. Louis traces over the bumps in Harry’s spine, and Harry shivers, but seems to sense Louis’ hesitation, because he says, “Don’t stop. I like the way you touch me.”

With his thumbs, Harry rubs along either side of Louis’ spine, and Louis melts against him. “I’m used to, like, tickling you and shoving you and poking you and trying _not_ to be like this.”

“You can be both,” Harry says, breath hot on Louis’ neck. “I like all of that. It’s fun. You’re like, the most fun. But I like your softness.”

Louis closes his eyes, bending to kiss the crook of Harry’s neck. 

They stand there for a while, holding each other, until Harry says, “I don’t know what six ways to Sunday means, but it sounds kinky.”

“You’re the worst,” Louis says, pulling Harry’s hair, which does nothing but encourage him, because he immediately pinches Louis’ ass. 

“Kinky,” Harry says again, so Louis pinches his nipple, and Harry raises his eyebrows. 

“All this time, I’ve been pushing you and pinching you and poking you and you’ve been getting off on it?” Louis asks, digging his fingertips into Harry’s love handles. 

“No!” Harry jumps sideways, away from Louis. “I mean, not… Oh my god. Now I’m nervous, too.” 

“What?”

“You’re my friend, but now you’re my boyfriend, and you’re going to find out all of my… my weird sex things,” Harry says, holding his palms to his cheeks. 

Feeling like they’re on equal footing, Louis says, “I promise, I’m looking forward to it.”

“Yeah?” Harry reaches for Louis’ hands and swings their arms between them. 

Louis nods. “Definitely. First, let’s find this hot springs.”

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

It’s only about a mile up an easy trail to the part of Paulina Lake where the hot springs are. And once they’re away from the campground, Harry takes his hand, lifting it and kissing Louis’ thumb. 

“Have you ever been to a hot spring?” Harry asks a little while later. 

“Once. Years ago,” Louis says, trying to remember something specific about it other than it was hot and smelled like sulphur. “It was in Colorado and it was like a pool. Concrete and steps and everything. The water was piped in from a natural hot spring, but it was nothing like this is supposed to be.”

“I’ve never been to one,” Harry says, pulling Louis along when he starts walking faster. “It’s like a hot tub, right?”

“Sort of. I mean, there aren’t any bubbles. And the website said this is more like a warm spring,” Louis reminds him, not wanting Harry to be disappointed. 

They follow the lake shore and the hot springs are definitely not like the one Louis visited in Colorado. Right on the edge of the lake, there’s a rectangular frame of logs and large stones surrounding what is basically a hole in the ground. There are a few more farther down the lake shore, and a couple of people, but no one close enough to talk to. 

They set their backpacks on the rocks beside the spring, and Harry bends over to dip his fingers in the water. 

“It’s warm. Feels good,” Harry says, splashing water on Louis’ legs. 

“I’ll push you in,” Louis warns, stuffing his shirt inside his backpack. He unlaces his boots, and tucks his socks inside, and they both stand there like they’re waiting for the other one to get in first. 

“Is it sand on the bottom or rocks?” Harry asks, rubbing his bare feet back and forth on the ground. 

“This is pumice,” Louis says, kicking some of it at Harry. “And there’s supposed to be rocks, but like, nothing sharp, hopefully.”

“Hopefully,” Harry says. “We should’ve brought our water shoes.”

Louis gingerly steps over the log and into the water. “It’s fine. It’s not deep, obviously, so no dunking me.”

“Okay,” Harry says, carefully climbing over and into the hot spring. “Oh, it’s nice.”

“It’s nice,” Louis says, laughing as he sits near the log so he can lean back on it. He stretches out, head resting on the log. “Don’t let me fall asleep.”

Instead of sitting, Harry squats down and sprawls on his stomach, floating in the shallow water, facing away from Louis. Louis reaches out and tickles the bottom of his foot, and Harry jerks, then slowly turns his entire body around. He floats up over Louis’ legs, pulling himself forward with his hands, until he gets to Louis’ chest, where he lays his head down and lets his body go slack. 

“Tired?” Louis asks, combing his fingers through the ends of Harry's curls. 

“Content,” Harry says, circling his arms around Louis and holding him while he floats. 

“I want to take you out,” Louis says, thinking about dancing with Harry in a dark club with pounding bass or dressing up and going someplace nice for dinner and wine where he can’t pronounce half the menu or taking him to the movies and stopping for burgers afterwards. 

“I want you to meet my mom,” Harry says, and then stills, body stiffening. 

“I’ve met her, Harold,” Louis says, cupping the warm water in his hand and washing it over Harry's back. “She came to lunch with us last year.”

Harry sighs. “I know. She made fun of my salad too.”

“You mean you want to introduce me to your family as your boyfriend?” Louis asks, and Harry nods, rubbing his scruffy cheeks on Louis’ chest. “We’ve been dating all of one whole day.”

“Feels longer,” Harry says, shrugging and lifting his head. 

“What does Gemma think?” Louis asks. 

“I didn’t tell her,” Harry says, pouting. “She called to tell me that she’s definitely moving out when the lease is up. And I told her I’m moving in with you and Niall.”

“Oh.”

“I didn’t think we were telling anyone until after the trip,” Harry says, kissing the center of Louis’ chest. 

“I don't know why I assumed—”

“I want to discuss stuff with you first. Like, job stuff. And roommate stuff.” Pushing himself back with his arms, Harry hovers over his stomach, and says, “But like you said, it’s been one day. Not even twenty-four hours.”

“You’re right.” Hooking his hands under Harry's arms, Louis pulls, and his wet chest slides up Louis’ torso. Face to face, Louis says, “It does feel longer.” 

Harry straddles him, still holding himself out of the water, and Louis lifts his chin, meeting his already parted lips. Twisting Harry’s curls around his fingers, Louis uses his grip to tilt his head and pull him closer. As Harry relaxes against him, he sinks into the water, and their hips meet, putting pressure on Louis’ cock. He kisses Harry harder, teeth knocking together, and slips one hand over the curve of his spine to trace along the waistband of his swimsuit. Harry hums, circling his hips, and Louis lets his head fall back with a groan.

“We probably shouldn’t,” Louis says, loosening his hold on Harry’s hair and scratching his scalp. “I don’t want to get hard.”

“Okay,” Harry whispers, kissing Louis’ chin, the hollow of his throat, and down his chest to where the water laps against his skin. He moves to the other side of the springs, leaning back against the log to face Louis, poking his leg with his toe. “Two bros, chillin’ in a hot spring, five feet apart ’cause they don’t want to get hard.”

Louis kicks, splashing water at him, catching Harry’s ankle between his feet when he tries to splash him back. “I’m glad we have today to just be.”

“Me too,” Harry says, wiggling his toes out of the water. “I hadn't really thought about it, but it’s nice to have a little break. We could try to find stuff to do on the days between our long drives. Like go to the movies or something.”

“You asking me on a date, Harold?” 

“Maybe,” Harry says, smiling and flicking water at him. 

They stay at the hot springs, taking periodic dips into the cold water of the lake, until the air starts to cool, and Louis checks the time to find that it’s almost eight o’clock. They brought dry shorts to change into, but it takes some maneuvering and creative towel placement. When they get back to the campsite, the sun is setting over the ridgeline, and they walk to the edge of the lake to watch the sky change colors.

“We never talked about who would sleep where on our in between nights,” Louis says after dinner, rinsing his toothbrush in the tiny sink.

“You did most of the driving today,” Harry says, then sticks his toothbrush in his mouth. 

For a moment, Louis watches him brush his teeth, until he realizes it’s probably weird to do that, and he makes himself look away. “We could share.”

“Really?” Harry asks around his toothbrush, mouth full of foaming toothpaste, eyes wide with excitement.

“Yeah, it’s supposed to be like forty degrees tonight,” Louis says, fighting not to smile. “We could cuddle for warmth.”

Harry’s face falls and he nods, turning to rinse his mouth in their little sink.

“Harold, I’m fucking with you,” Louis says, pinching the softness of Harry’s hip. He leans against the edge of the dinette table, admiring the muscles of Harry’s back as he moves around the tiny camper. “I do want to cuddle for warmth, but I also want to kiss you for a little while before I go to sleep.”

“Can I be the little spoon?” Harry asks, turning around and stepping between Louis’ legs.

For the coldest night so far on their trip, Louis sleeps better than he has since they left DC. Snuggled up to Harry’s back, face buried in his curls, both of them smelling of sweat and lake water, he wakes well-rested and happier than he’s ever been. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

“Holy shit, Lou,” Harry says as soon as they park the camper at Silver Falls State Park, and step outside. He spins around, looking up at the trees around their campsite, and Louis knows exactly what he means. 

“It feels so private,” Louis says, walking to the road at the edge of their site to check out the other campsites nearby. Each one is surrounded by green. Tall trees and dense, leafy bushes grow between and behind each site so that they can’t see the RV in the spaces beside theirs. If not for the paved campsite, it would look like they’d parked in the middle of a rainforest. 

Today’s activity is a guided tour on horseback with GoPros attached to their helmets. Louis has never ridden a horse before, but when they made the reservation, they assured him that it wouldn’t be an issue. It’s a wonderful hour spent exploring the park, traveling through creeks and rain forest, despite having to endure Harry’s constant jokes about being naturally good at riding. 

That night, after they shower, Louis trims his beard and mustache while Harry watches on. Then he trims Harry's mustache, too, when he asks, carefully showing him how to do it with scissors since he’s only used a razor before. 

Up in the big bed, they lay facing each other, whispering in the dark. 

“I’ve had so much fun the last two days,” Harry says, letting his palm rest in the dip of Louis’ waist and rubbing his thumb back and forth over his skin. 

Louis hums, inching forward and kissing Harry’s Adam’s apple. “Me too. Never thought this would happen, to be honest.”

“Lou,” Harry says, sliding his hand over Louis’ ribs. “How long have you…”

Squirming down under the blanket, Louis hides his face in Harry’s chest. “Don’t want to say.”

Harry squirms down under the blanket too, breath warm on Louis’ face. “I was so nervous on my first day of work that I got there forty-five minutes early and hid in the bathroom until quarter to nine. I met with HR, then Zayn took me around to introduce me to everyone. When he finally showed me to my desk, and I met you, I thought ‘Wow. I get to sit across from that face every day?’”

Sputtering a laugh, Louis says, “I was so happy because Dwight was gone and you were so… pretty.”

Nudging their noses together, Harry presses a quick kiss to Louis’ lips, and says, “You were lovely to me that day. You took me to lunch and you laughed at my jokes and you didn’t get mad at me when I accidentally spit water on you and I… I had such a crush on you from day one.”

“Don’t tell me that, Harold,” Louis says, filled with both regret and relief. 

Pulling the blanket off their heads, Harry scowls at him. “Why not?”

“I don’t want to think about how different things could be,” Louis says, lifting his hand to cradle Harry’s jaw. “Wouldn’t be here, that’s for sure. If we’d started dating and snuck around, we might’ve both gotten fired. Or I probably would’ve quit—” 

“You love your job,” Harry says, and Louis shrugs. 

“I thought you were amazing from the second I met you.” Taking a deep, steadying breath, Louis says, “That’s how long.”

“I had no clue,” Harry says, laying his hand over Louis’ heart. “I thought you weren’t interested.”

“I thought I missed my chance,” Louis says, and Harry shakes his head. A breeze blows in through the window at the head of the bed, and Louis pulls the blanket back over them, yawning as he scoots up to the pillow. 

“Kissy?” Harry purses his lips, and Louis has to lean down to kiss him softly, reaching to pat his bum. 

“Roll over if you want me to spoon you.”

“Comfortable like this,” Harry mumbles, draping his arm over Louis’ middle, and rubbing his nose back and forth over Louis’ chest, making Louis glad he took a shower if Harry's planning to sleep burrowed in his armpit. 

“’Night, Harry,” Louis says, kissing the top of his head. 

Giggling quietly, Harry kisses Louis’ nipple. “’Night, Lou.”

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

On Sunday, they hike the Trail of Ten Falls, which is surprisingly not crowded. It’s a beautiful trail, surrounded by lush trees in every shade of green imaginable, and they’re able to walk behind some of the waterfalls, which is very cool to do and to look at, but is also loud enough that they can’t film themselves talking about it while actually under the falls. They record for a few minutes under the first fall, and after turning the camera off, Harry uses his phone to take a selfie of them with the water pouring down in the background. Then he pushes Louis up against the rock wall and kisses him breathless. 

After that, they pause to kiss and take pictures together at each of the falls, and when they get back to the camper, it’s a struggle to take their hiking boots off while their mouths are attached. Which is how they wind up shirtless, with their pants around their ankles, and their boots still on. 

Louis palms Harry’s ass with both hands, kneading the muscles, and rocking against him. A short, familiar gasp escapes Harry, and Louis stills, dropping his hands.

“I have to tell you something,” Louis says, trying to take a step back and bumping into the wall between the dinette table and one of the storage closets. Unable to look Harry in the eye, especially while they’re both standing there with their dicks out, Louis steps sideways and bends down to pull his pants up, dropping onto the dinette bench with a heavy sigh. 

Harry follows suit, sitting across from him, frowning and looking bewildered, cheeks flushed as he chews on his lower lip. He reaches under the table, and Louis can tell he’s touching himself, however briefly. Then he leans back and crosses his arms, looking down at his lap. “What is it?”

“Remember when we were in Pennsylvania, that night we got Dominos?” Louis asks, forcing himself to keep his head up. 

“Yeah,” Harry says, furrowing his brow.

“I, um, I woke up in the middle of the night, and I swear I thought you were, like, upset or something, but you weren’t,” Louis says, shutting his eyes tight, and hoping that Harry will fill in the rest so he doesn’t have to say it. When he doesn’t speak, Louis blinks open his eyes to find Harry watching him curiously, head tilted to the side. Taking a steadying breath, Louis swallows hard, and rushes out, “You were jerking off. And I didn’t mean to, but I sort of watched? I just— I _did_ think you were, like, crying or maybe sick or something at first, and then I realized what was going on, and I couldn’t, like, stop you. So, I’m sorry. Like, really, really sorry. Sorry that I saw and sorry that I didn’t say anything sooner. I’m sorry.”

“Wow,” Harry says slowly. 

“I’m sorry,” Louis says again. “And I understand if you, like, want to break up with me now, or cut the trip short and go home.”

“Louis.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not mad.”

“You’re not?”

“No,” Harry says, laughing quietly and shaking his head. “I’m the one who jerked off, like, five feet away from you. I shouldn’t’ve done that.” 

Silently, Louis stares at him. He expected Harry to be at least a little bit pissed off. 

“Have you, um…” Harry wiggles in his seat a bit. “Have you done that? In the camper, I mean.”

Louis shakes his head quickly. “No.”

Reaching across the table and taking Louis’ hand, Harry says, “You should.”

“What?”

“You know, jerk off. You watched me, I’ll watch you,” Harry says, giving Louis’ hand a squeeze. 

“You’re serious,” Louis says, narrowing his eyes. 

“Fair’s fair,” Harry says, raising his eyebrows. 

“You promise you’re not mad?” 

Harry nods, standing up and pulling Louis out of his seat. “Even if we weren’t together, if we were just friends and you told me, I’d be more embarrassed than anything. What should you have done? Interrupted me? ‘Excuse me, Harold, but some of us are trying to sleep.’”

“I could’ve told you sooner,” Louis says.

“Maybe,” Harry says, cradling Louis’ jaw with both hands. “But you told me today.”

“Yeah, but—” 

It’s hard to keep arguing that Harry should be mad at him when he’s kissing him instead. Especially when he reaches down to grab Louis’ ass, and says, “Take your clothes off, get on the bed, and let me watch you.”

“Okay,” Louis croaks, clearing his throat. He kisses Harry again, and Harry slips past him to sit on the bench facing the big bed. 

Louis can’t help but giggle as they both hurry to take their boots off, and when he climbs up onto the bed, he’s no longer feeling anxious about telling Harry about that night. Instead, he’s nervous about masturbating in front of his boyfriend, which oddly enough, is something he’s never done before. 

Shimmying out of his shorts and boxers, Louis kicks them to the end of the bed, and turns his head to look at Harry. “You just want me to jerk off?”

“You could put on a show,” Harry says, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table, chin in his hands. 

“Shit. Yeah, okay,” Louis says, lifting his head a little to look down at his dick. His erection completely disappeared during their conversation, but it’s not going to take much to get him going again. 

“Okay, um… Wait a second,” Harry says, chuckling quietly, and Louis stills, watching as he stands up and collapses the dinette table, quickly turning it into a bed. He tosses a sheet over it and drops his shorts, sitting again with his legs stretched out, hand on his own cock. Louis groans at the sight, and Harry smirks. “Might as well.”

“Oh my god,” Louis says, squeezing the base of his dick. Cupping his balls with one hand, he rolls them in his palm, letting his head sink into the pillow, and closing his eyes. 

As much as he’d like to watch Harry get himself off, he doesn’t think he can do that right now, needing to focus on what he’s doing. Otherwise he might come in a record amount of time. It’s already bound to be fast, considering how long it’s been since the day he got off in the shower in Wyoming. 

Slowly, Louis strokes himself until he’s fully hard and throbbing in his hand. He thumbs at the head, smearing the precome that’s gathered there down his shaft, and wishing he had the forethought to pack lube. Instead, he releases his dick and licks his hand, which helps a little. It also makes Harry moan, which helps more because he doesn’t care as much about his own discomfort when he knows that Harry's getting off on it. 

Remembering that he’s supposed to be giving Harry a show, Louis arches his back and while he jerks himself off, he rubs his chest, pinching his nipples, whimpering and biting his lip. He fucks up into his hand, twisting his grip, and when he feels his orgasm building, he lets his head fall to the side, finally looking at Harry. 

Mouth agape, chest flushed and sweaty, Harry matches Louis’ movements, pulling on his nipples with a hiss when Louis does the same. Louis speeds up, eyes locked on the head of Harry's cock disappearing into his fist, licking his lips and imagining licking the tip of Harry's dick. 

“Fuck. Coming,” Louis says, muscles contracting as he spurts on his stomach, covering himself in come. He whines as he works through his orgasm, and gasps when Harry comes a moment later, dripping over his fist. 

“Holy shit,” Harry says, panting and inching towards the edge of the dinette bed. He opens the kitchen cabinet from there, grabbing the paper towels, and Louis laughs, climbing down as soon as he catches his breath. 

They clean themselves up, and after Harry lays down, Louis crawls over his legs, sitting on his thighs. “Maybe it’s the orgasm, but I feel a lot less nervous about having sex with you.”

“Same.” Resting his hands on Louis’ hips, Harry says, “I like post-orgasm naked Louis. You’re very cuddly.”

“I’m always cuddly, Harold,” Louis says, leaning down to kiss him again. 

“Yeah, but naked _and_ cuddly,” Harry says, sliding his hands over Louis’ ass and giving it a squeeze. “Love it.”

Louis hides his face against the side of Harry’s neck, not that he’s embarrassed about his body or Harry touching him, but that single word coming out of Harry’s mouth makes his heart skip a beat. 

“I think my pubes are the longest they’ve ever been,” Harry says, and Louis’ entire body shakes with uncontrollable laughter. He bites Harry's collarbone and sits up, still giggling. 

“Mine, too,” Louis says, looking down at his overgrown pubic hair, and noting the differences between his and Harry's. “I kind of like it.”

“Like how I like your beard?” Harry asks, moving his soft cock out of the way and scratching his pubes. 

“Yes, Harold. You look more rugged this way,” Louis says. Without thinking, he circles his fingers around Harry's dick, and Harry hums, biting his lip. 

Shifting his hips so that his dick slides in Louis’ grip, Harry says, “I don’t think I have the energy to go again.”

“I know I don’t,” Louis says, climbing off of him. He finds Harry's shorts on the floor and tosses them to him, gets his own off the big bed and pulls them on. “We were going to go check out the bike trails. We should at least try to be professional.”

“Yeah, alright. And I have to cook tonight,” Harry says, passing Louis his boots and socks. 

“Plus, we have to shower,” Louis says, scratching his happy trail. At Harry's raised eyebrows, he adds, “Separately.”

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

Monday morning is the beginning of their eighth week, and for the first time Louis wakes up naked in bed with Harry. If he didn’t have to piss like a racehorse, he’d stay, but they do actually have things to do, and a schedule to keep. Plus, they slept in. The trees shading their campsite and the cool temperatures let them rest more comfortably, long after the sun came up. 

It’s a relatively short drive to Cape Disappointment State Park in Washington. Three and a half hours and they’re there. The second Louis pulls through the gate, he's nervous, but he pushes that aside. He finds the park office, and before Harry can ask what he’s doing, Louis hops out of the truck, yelling as he runs for the door, “Be right back!”

The check-in process is easy. Louis says a quick thank you and is behind the wheel again in no time.

“What are you doing?” Harry asks, as soon as Louis gets his seatbelt on.

“You'll see!” Carefully, Louis backs out of his parking space, and tries not to drive too fast. He turns left into the campground, then right. The campsites are in circles of ten, like leaves on branches off the main roads. 

When Louis turns left again, they pass two yurts on one of the circles, and Harry says, “Oh, they have yurts. I wish I’d thought to check.”

Louis just hums, turning right, and onto the circle where their reservation is located. He pulls past their campsite, and reverses the truck, backing into the paved parking area. 

Leaning forward, Harry looks in the side view mirror. “Louis…”

Unsure by Harry’s tone if he’s happy or not, Louis quietly says, “Surprise?”

Harry unbuckles his seatbelt and flings himself across the seat, smacking Louis in the nose. “Oh my god, I’m sorry!”

Eyes watering, Louis tips his head back, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Is it bleeding?”

“No,” Harry says, ducking down and looking up. “I don’t think so.”

“Does this mean you like my surprise?” Louis asks, checking his face in the rear view mirror and blinking the tears away. Harry didn’t hit him that hard, so hopefully he won’t bruise.

“Yes!” Harry grabs his cheeks and kisses him, bumping their noses together. He pulls back, wincing. “Sorry!”

Laughing, Louis wipes his eyes. “It’s alright. If I get a black eye, you can explain it to the camera.”

“Do you need an ice pack?” Harry asks.

“I’m fine,” Louis says, shaking his head. He pulls the key out of his pocket and dangles it in front of Harry. “You want to go inside?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, holding his hand out. As soon as Louis drops the key into his hand, Harry scrambles out of the truck and runs up to the tiny porch, jumping over the single step. He unlocks the door and Louis waits out on the porch for him to get any jumping or flailing of limbs out of the way. 

“Is it safe to come inside?” Louis asks from the doorway. 

“There’s a bed, Louis,” Harry says, standing in the center of the room, hands on his hips. “It has a plastic mattress, but it’s an actual bed, not attached to a wheeled vehicle.”

“I see that,” Louis says, stepping inside. “I call top bunk.”

Harry blinks slowly, pursing his lips. He turns and looks at the top bunk, and says, “We’ll see.”

The yurt is furnished with a small table and chairs, a futon, and bunk beds with a queen size bed on the bottom, but they don’t provide linens or pillows. They collect the sheet, blanket, and pillows off the big bed in the camper, and make the bottom bunk so they don’t have to do it later. Louis grabs the duffle bag of what’s left of their clean clothes, tossing it on the futon. He sits beside it and lets his head fall back.

“Harold, this was a mistake,” Louis says. Maybe he’ll take a nap.

“What are you talking about?” Harry asks, climbing into his lap and gently rubbing the bridge of Louis’ nose with his thumb. He rests his arms on the back of the futon on either side of Louis’ head and leans down to kiss him.

“It’s too comfortable,” Louis mutters against his lips, sliding his fingertips under the hem of Harry’s shorts. 

“It’s not a disappointment, that’s for sure,” Harry says, and Louis pushes him out of his lap and onto the seat beside him. 

“I’ve been expecting that,” Louis says. “But I thought you’d wait until you were on camera.”

“I’ll say it again with more oomph,” Harry says, grinning and leaning in to kiss Louis’ cheek. “Let’s go see the beach.”

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

Benson Beach is only a short walk through the campground, so they don’t bring anything other than their water bottles and one of the cameras. 

The second they step outside, Harry spins around, wide eyed, and says, “We should film the yurt!”

“You think?” Louis asks.

“Yeah, you record me. I’ll give a tour,” Harry says, jingling the key. He closes the door, standing under the wooden awning, and Louis crosses the little porch to get all of Harry in the frame. 

“Okay, Harold, do your thing,” Louis says with a wink.

“Hi, everyone! We’re in Washington—the state, since some people get confused—at Cape Disappointment State Park,” Harry says, jingling the key again. “We got here today, and guess what? Louis surprised me with a yurt! When we were in Wyoming, I noticed that they had yurts available to rent like some campgrounds have cabins, and I was kind of sad that we couldn’t rent one.” He pretends to unlock the door, opening it wide, and gesturing for Louis to follow him. Inside the yurt, he spins in a circle, and says, “It’s not huge, but it’s way bigger than the camper we’ve been living in for seven weeks. And we’re very close to the beach, which is where we’re going now.”

Louis turns off the camera, and slips it into his pocket. “Ready now?”

“Yep,” Harry says, and they start for the beach. 

The North Head Lighthouse is visible as soon as they step onto the sand, and they walk south, away from it, hand in hand. 

“I was reading while you were driving,” Harry says, bumping their shoulders together. “A few years ago, there was a bad winter storm, and it washed away one of the campsite rings.”

“Ten campsites?” Louis asks, letting go of Harry’s hand to turn around and walk backwards. 

“Yeah, the ones furthest south and closest to the beach,” Harry says, glancing back. “Campsites eleven through twenty.”

“The weather can get really bad here,” Louis says, remembering some of the YouTube videos he watched before they left DC of the winter storms and massive crashing waves. He keeps walking backwards, more enthralled with Harry and the way the wind blows his curls around than he is by the Pacific Ocean.

They walk as far as they can towards the jetty, and turn back, stopping to eat lunch before taking the bikes down off the roof rack of the camper, and going for a ride around the park. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

“Dead Man’s Cove,” Louis says to the camera, gesturing at the beach below. “That’s not ominous. It’s closed off, but to protect the cove. Hiking up and down was causing erosion, and really, I’d much rather look at it from here.”

Harry turns the camera on himself and says, “It’s a beautiful view. Definitely not a disappointment.”

“We’re going to count how many times Harold makes the same joke,” Louis says, and Harry sticks his tongue out, pointing the camera at Louis again. “Actually, people should guess a number beforehand, and then there could be a winner at the end.”

“Sounds like more work for Niall,” Harry says. He turns off the camera, tipping his head back and studying the sky. “Looks like rain.”

“Rains here all the time, apparently,” Louis says, swinging his leg over his bike. “Guess we got lucky yesterday.”

The next stop is Waikiki Beach, another cove a little farther up the path where swimming is permitted, though there aren’t any lifeguards. 

Harry takes a turn in front of the camera, pulling Louis’ Blockbuster hat out of his backpack to keep his curls from blowing around. 

“It’s getting in my mouth,” Harry says, tucking his hair under the backwards snapback. 

“I’ll get in your mouth,” Louis says, and Harry snorts, shoving him hard enough that he stumbles back a step. 

“You make fun of my puns, but you’re just as bad,” Harry says, rubbing his fingertip over his lips. “My lips are chapped.”

“Too much kissing,” Louis says, but Harry shakes his head. Cupping Harry's chin and softly tapping his lower lip, Louis whispers, “Quit biting your lip then.”

Harry pouts. “You think it’s cute.”

“Everything you do is cute,” Louis mutters, and Harry smiles wide, then bites his lower lip. 

“Ow.”

“I won’t kiss you if your lips are sore,” Louis says, making Harry frown. “Okay, I will, but not on your lips.”

Narrowing his eyes, Harry opens his mouth to say something and the wind gusts, almost blowing the snapback off his head. 

“Shit. Okay. Let’s do this,” Harry says, pointing at the clouds. 

Louis moves back and turns on the camera, signaling for Harry to start. He talks faster than usual, skipping the opportunity to make a pun about not being disappointed in Waikiki Beach, dropping the information about the history of the location like it’s no big deal, and clapping once when he decides he’s finished. 

“You okay?” Louis asks on the walk back up to where they left their bikes. 

“Just want to beat the storm,” Harry says, hopping on his bike. 

The way back to their campsite is a paved road, but the rain starts before they get off the main road and into the campground. By the time they get to their yurt, it’s pouring, and they’re soaked through. Since they can’t really get any wetter, they go ahead and put the bikes back up on the roof rack, being careful not to slip and fall. 

As soon as they step inside the yurt, they strip out of their clothes, and stand there naked, laughing, in puddles of water. 

“We don’t have any towels,” Louis says, and Harry shakes his head. 

“Nope. They’re in the camper.”

“Okay,” Louis says, picking up his sopping wet boxers. He steps into them, but it takes some effort to get them back on. 

“What are you doing?”

Fishing the keys out of his backpack, Louis says, “I’m going to get some stuff out of the camper. Be right back.”

Thunder booms and he jumps, laughing at himself. He hurries outside and unlocks the camper, climbing in and shaking the water from his hair. They have garbage bags in the storage room, so he stuffs towels in one, and opens the fridge. With their containers of leftovers balanced in one hand, and two full bottles of water cradled against his chest, Louis rifles through the first aid kit until he finds a tiny container of Vaseline for Harry's chapped lips. After checking to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything, he steps down onto the muddy ground, and locks the camper. 

Waiting under the wooden awning, Harry cups his dick and balls as if that does anything to hide the fact that he’s totally naked. He stands aside as Louis rushes past him. 

“Got your cock out for all of Washington to see?” Louis asks, smacking Harry on the bum. He doesn’t flinch at all. 

“Nope. Just you,” Harry says, taking the leftovers and setting them on the table. 

Louis dumps the bag of towels onto the futon and steps out of his boxers, putting them along with the rest of their clothes in the garbage bag and leaving it by the door. After he dries off, he wipes up the water from the floor, and drapes the towel over the back of one of the chairs. 

When he turns, he finds Harry bent in half, twisting a towel around his head. He stands and flips the towel, grinning at Louis. 

“Come and cuddle,” Harry says, climbing into the bottom bunk and holding the blanket up. “I’m cold.”

“Hold on. I’ve got…” Louis shivers, looking around the room until he finds the little container of Vaseline. He must’ve dropped it because it’s under the edge of the futon. “Here. For your chapped lips.”

He gives it to Harry, and climbs into the bed, laying on his side and propping himself up on his elbow, still surprised at how comfortable he feels to be naked in Harry’s presence. Harry kisses him, then opens the container, pursing his lips as he applies the Vaseline. 

Lightning flashes in the bit of sky visible through the skylight, followed a few seconds later by a deafening crack of thunder, and driving rain pounds against the fabric of the yurt. Harry takes the towel off his head and wiggles down under the blanket, nuzzling the side of Louis’ chest, close enough to his armpit to tickle and make Louis blush. He hasn’t showered since the previous night, but he can’t really move with Harry where he is, so he stays put.

“Harold,” Louis says, kissing the top of his head. “What are you doing?”

Humming, Harry presses a sticky, Vaseline kiss to the curve of Louis’ underarm. He inhales, and says, “Like the way you smell.”

Lifting his other arm, Louis turns his head and sniffs, wrinkling his nose. “Sweat and Old Spice deodorant?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, rubbing his nose back and forth. He drapes his arm over Louis’ side, and sighs happily. “It’s good.”

“I could shower less frequently,” Louis offers, chuckling when he can feel Harry smile. 

“Are you making fun of me, Lewis?” Harry asks, growling playfully and nipping at Louis’ skin. 

“A little,” Louis says. “I’m allowed, I think. Come up here.”

Harry works his way back up and Louis pushes him onto his back, rolling with him so they’re chest to chest when he settles between Harry's legs. Conscious of Harry’s chapped and Vaseline covered lips, Louis goes for his neck instead, kissing from his Adam’s apple to just beneath his ear. He makes his way to Harry’s shoulder, sucking on his skin, but not hard enough to leave a mark. 

“Tastes a bit like sunscreen,” Louis says, skating his palms down Harry's sides and back up to his underarms, digging his fingers into them while Harry giggles and thrashes beneath him. 

“No,” Harry says, drawing the sound out like a howl as he laughs and wiggles. 

Easing off and gentling his touch, Louis traces the edges of the muscles of Harry’s chest to his bicep, and Harry stills, blinking up at him, face flushed pink. Slowly, Harry lifts his arms, letting them rest on the pillow, hands above his head. 

“Okay, baby?” Louis whispers, and Harry nods. 

With his lips to the line where Harry’s tan fades, Louis leaves kisses from the top of his ribs, around the curve beside the dip of his armpit, moving as slowly as he can make himself. 

Sharing toiletries means they smell similarly, but Harry’s own body chemistry is enough to make the difference noticeable. Louis inhales his scent, and follows Harry’s triceps to his elbow, and back over the swell of biceps to his shoulder again. Aware of Harry’s breathing, and his cock hardening between them, Louis mimics his movements on the other side, darting his tongue out to lick the salty skin beside Harry’s underarm. 

Harry whimpers and Louis smiles against his skin. He does it again, then kisses across his chest to his nipple, taking it between his lips. A crash of thunder comes out of nowhere, and Harry jumps underneath him. Louis hums, tonguing Harry’s nipple and sucking harder when he threads his fingers through Louis’ hair and moans wantonly. Being sure to spend time on all four of Harry’s nipples, Louis makes his way down his stomach, ignoring his dick and nipping at Harry’s belly button before shifting sideways to gently bite at his lovehandles. 

Trailing kisses along the crease where Harry’s leg meets his torso, Louis breathes him in. He lifts his head, finding Harry looking back at him. 

“Can I blow you?” Louis asks, raising his eyebrows. 

“Oh my god, yes,” Harry says, crossing his arms over his face. 

It’s been a while since Louis has felt an emotional attachment to a penis that isn’t his own. He takes a moment to admire Harry's, circling his thumb and forefinger around the base and holding it away from his body, feeling the warmth and weight of it before licking from base to tip and taking the head into his mouth. 

Hearing Harry's strangled groan spurs him on, and he sinks down, stretching his lips around Harry's dick. He presses his tongue against the underside as he bobs his head, wrapping his fingers around what he can’t fit in his mouth and stroking to match his rhythm. 

Harry's big enough as it is, that when he bucks his hips, Louis has to pull off, jerking him fast while Harry tries to guide him back to his dick. 

Smirking, Louis kisses the head, and sucks him into his mouth, using both hands to push down on Harry's hips, keeping him still. He hollows his cheeks and teases the tip and pulls every trick he knows until Harry's a babbling, incoherent mess. The only warning he gets before Harry's comes is his grip tightening on Louis’ hair, and his cock flexing. 

“Lou, I’m—” Harry trails off, gasping as he spills into Louis’ mouth. 

As soon as Harry's orgasm wanes, Louis kneels between his legs, jerking himself fast, mouth hanging open at the sight of Harry spread out on the mattress. 

“Wait!” Harry reaches out, batting Louis’ hand away, and pulling him down beside him. He crawls down Louis’ body and sucks him off, wet and messy and fast. 

Tugging Harry's curls, Louis says, “Coming, baby. God…” and Harry takes all of him, nose brushing Louis’ pubes as he swallows around him while he comes. 

When he pulls off, he lays between Louis’ legs, panting against his thigh. 

“Holy shit,” Louis says, reaching up and rapping his knuckles on the underside of the top bunk. “I’m too tired to climb up. You’re stuck with me down here.”

“Okay, but we still have to eat dinner. And it’s only like seven o’clock,” Harry says, kissing Louis’ stomach as he crawls back up the bed. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

It rains all night and the next day, and because they’re staying the night in the Walmart parking lot in Coos Bay, Oregon, they leave Cape Disappointment in the late afternoon. There’s a laundromat on the same street as the Walmart, so they stop there first, and spend a couple of hours washing everything they can, including the sheets and blankets. 

The laundromat is stifling hot. Detergent and fabric softener scents are overpowering, and a broken dryer keeps buzzing at random intervals. The woman using it just gets up and presses start again every time. All combined make Louis’ head hurt worse than it did when they woke up that morning, which was bad enough for him to take Tylenol right off the bat with his coffee. 

He still insisted on driving half of the trip, and after spending a total of six hours in the truck, he just wants to lie down and stretch out and not have a headache anymore. The dryer buzzes again, and Louis’ head throbs. He takes the pile of towels and sheets and blankets and washcloths he was folding, wraps them inside one of the blankets, and carries it all out to the camper. 

“Fuck,” Louis mutters when he gets there and realizes that, even if he can get the keys out of his pocket without dropping anything, he’s still going to have to unlock and open the camper door, _and_ the steps are stored inside the camper where they always put them when they’re on the road. 

He manages the door, barely. And the only way in without the steps is to climb up, which wouldn’t be difficult if he wasn’t holding two large loads of laundry in his arms. Finally, he just throws it all into the camper and scrambles up after it, picking it up and tossing it onto the dinette table. Most of it slides onto the surrounding benches, and some of it winds up back on the floor. 

The sight of their clean linens on the camper floor brings tears to his eyes, and that pisses him off even more. He kicks his Vans into the closet and picks up the laundry, putting it on the big bed. When that's done, he drops into the seat and bangs his head on the table. 

“Ouch,” Harry says from outside the open camper door. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Louis snaps, and immediately feels shitty for it, but he doesn’t apologize. He has to pee and he has to wait until they're at Walmart of all places to go to the bathroom. The thought just makes him more irritated. 

Narrowing his eyes as he slides the duffel bag of clean clothes into the camper, Harry asks, “Are you riding back here?”

“No,” Louis says, pushing himself out of the seat. He would, if it were really an option, but the truck camper is too unsteady and it’s not safe, even if they’re only going a mile down the road. Plus, he has the keys. 

Harry's waiting by the passenger door, arms crossed, brow furrowed, and he doesn’t say a word when they get in the truck. It’s less than five minutes to the Walmart, where they park and go inside to stock up on groceries. 

They’re in line to pay when Louis finally apologizes. He lightly drags his knuckle down the back of Harry’s arm, and Harry jerks away, glancing over his shoulder at Louis like he might’ve been a stranger touching him. 

“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” Louis says, and his head pounds with each word. He closes his eyes and rubs his temples, wanting to squeeze his skull. Not that it’ll help. 

“The Tylenol didn’t work?” Harry asks, and Louis tries to shake his head while also moving it as little as possible. “Babe, why didn’t you say something?”

Louis shrugs. “Didn’t want to complain.”

“When’d you take it? Lunch?” Harry asks, while they load their things onto the conveyor belt. 

“Took more when we got to the laundromat, so like, two or three hours ago, I guess.” 

Harry doesn’t say anything else about it. They push their cart full of groceries out to the camper, and put everything away, while Louis eyes the pile of laundry on the bed, regretting his earlier tantrum. He figures he'll take care of it when Harry starts towards the store with the empty cart, and says, “I’ll be back. Need to run inside and get something.”

While he’s gone, Louis opens the windows to let some air in, and starts folding the towels. When the rest of the laundry is done, and the big bed is freshly made, Louis is too grumpy and tired and his head hurts too much for him to bother undressing and getting under the sheets. Instead, he sits down on the bench and then lays on his side, pulling his feet up. 

“Lou, babe. Wake up,” Harry says, and Louis blinks his eyes open, immediately shutting them against the light. 

“Don’t want to.”

“Don’t be a baby,” Harry says, leaning over and combing Louis’ hair off his forehead. “I got some different stuff for your head. And some cold medicine. Have you noticed you sound kind of stuffed up?”

“No,” Louis says, but then he hears it. He sits up. “Yes.”

“You want dinner?” Harry asks, but Louis shakes his head. It makes the camper seem wobbly. Harry lays the back of his wrist across Louis’ forehead, and says, “You don’t feel warm, but the Tylenol would probably bring a fever down even if it didn’t help your headache.”

Louis doesn’t know what to say, so he just nods. It doesn’t help his head. 

“Get in bed, babe,” Harry says, patting the mattress. He opens the fridge and pulls out one of the cold thermoses, handing it to Louis along with a little cup of green liquid and some ibuprofen. 

“Gross. NyQuil?” Louis makes a face, but he takes it, and chugs the water. Almost the second his head hits the pillow, he’s asleep. 

He wakes up when Harry climbs into the bed, crawling over him and whispering, “Sorry, Lou. Go back to sleep.”

Once Harry’s settled under the blanket, Louis rolls over, cuddling up to his back and burying his face in his curls. He inhales something fruity that he can’t pinpoint as sleep pulls him back under.

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

Louis is sick. Not like stomach virus sick or flu sick, but he has a cold and it proceeds to make him absolutely miserable for three days. It ruins California for him. He makes himself drive part of the way to Humbolt Redwoods State Park, he makes himself get out of the camper, he makes himself hike some of the trails, and then Harry makes him take a bunch of medicine and go to bed early. The following day, he doesn't do anything. 

He finally feels better around the time they arrive at the Walmart in Hanford, California, about halfway to Valley of Fire State Park in Nevada. Because he’s feeling normal again, and because Harry took such good care of him when he was sick and being an asshole, Louis apologizes by giving him a blowjob in the camper, kneeling on the bench while Harry’s legs dangle off the edge of the bed.

“You said you were sorry like immediately, Lou,” Harry says after he returns the favor. “And then you were fine. I mean, you weren’t all happy, but you were sick. It’s okay to not be in a good mood all the time.”

“Yeah, but I’m still sorry,” Louis says, pulling up his boxers and wondering what happened to his shorts. “You want to go to the movies?”

“Depends,” Harry says, tossing Louis’ shorts across the camper from the bed. 

“Whatever you want to see, baby,” Louis says, climbing back onto the bed and laying on top of Harry. It’s too hot and he knows he’s being annoying, but they don’t have a way to run the air conditioner and movie theaters are always cold. “Let me buy you some popcorn and M&M’s and a Dr. Pepper. I want to hold your hand and maybe make out a little bit in the back row.”

“Peanut M&M’s,” Harry says, like he’s bargaining. 

“Anything you want,” Louis says, smacking a kiss on his lips. “What is that? You taste fruity.”

“Strawberry Chapstick,” Harry says, pursing his lips, and of course, Louis kisses him again. 

When the movie’s over, and they walk outside, the temperature has dropped enough that Louis doesn’t feel like immediately running back inside. With the windows open in the camper, it’s hardly bearable for sleeping, and with Harry emitting heat right next to him all night, he wakes up hot and sweaty and desperate for a shower. That won’t happen for another seven hours at least. Valley of Fire State Park is still a long way off. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

“It’s so fucking hot,” Louis says, pulling his t-shirt away from his chest and trying to get a breeze going. It doesn’t work. 

“This _is_ the Mojave Desert,” Harry says, hooking up the camper to the water supply while Louis takes care of the electric. 

“We have to be careful today,” Louis says, opening the camper and grabbing the steps to set them up. He climbs in and turns on the air conditioner. It’s just past lunch and it’s already over a hundred degrees. 

With extra water and Gatorade in their backpacks, they coat themselves in sunscreen, and lace up their hiking boots. Harry puts on his bucket hat, and Louis does too, tugging it down over his eyes. 

“Hot,” Harry says.

“I know,” Louis says, repeating Harry’s earlier words, “This _is_ the Mojave Desert.”

“I meant you,” Harry says, flipping the brim of Louis’ hat up and tapping the end of his nose. 

Knowing how silly he feels in his hat, Louis looks down at his white Tellurian International t-shirt, khaki cargo pants with the globe logo on the pocket, and dusty hiking boots, and laughs. “The heat must be getting to you.”

Harry grabs a fistful of Louis’ shirt and pulls him close. “It’s seventy-five degrees in this camper, and you should say thank you when someone compliments you.”

Rolling his eyes, Louis loops his arms around Harry’s neck. “Thank you.”

“It’s not the clothes, you know,” Harry says, kissing him and tasting of the Strawberry Chapstick that’s starting to cause a Pavlovian response in Louis’ pants. “I don’t care what you wear. It’s the whole package.” Punctuating his sentence with a quick squeeze to Louis’ ass, Harry continues, “Packing extra sunscreen? Hot. Putting the Lemon Lime Gatorade in my bag because you pay attention enough to know it’s my favorite flavor? Also hot. Wearing this hat that you hate because it’s better for hiking in extreme heat and you’re responsible and know that what you look like doesn’t matter? Very hot.”

Louis smiles, reaching around to slip his hands in Harry’s back pockets. “I took a multivitamin this morning.”

“So hot,” Harry says.

“Flossed.”

“Keep it up, and we won’t make it out of the camper,” Harry says, voice low and gravelly, and Louis smiles, enamored with him.

“I—” Louis’ eyes go wide, and he closes his mouth so fast his teeth click. Barely two weeks into their relationship is far too soon to tell Harry he loves him. He clears his throat, and tries to sound as sexy as possible, says, “I also have a very regular digestive system.”

“Oh, you ruined it,” Harry says, letting go of Louis and lifting his arms in the air, shaking his head ruefully. 

“Lots of fiber,” Louis says, pressing his lips together to keep from laughing. 

“Stop,” Harry whines, pushing him towards the door. 

Since it’s so late in the day to get started, they stick close to the campground, starting with the Petrified Logs Loop, hiking the Pinnacles Trail out and back, and circling past Atlatl Rock and Arch Rock, before ending the day at the Beehives.

Standing in the shade made by the large rock that does resemble a beehive, Harry says to the camera, “Now, these are not actually beehives. If they were, we wouldn’t be standing here, because that would _bee_ a humongous bee.” 

“Oh my god, Harold,” Louis says. 

Harry ignores him and buzzes, wiggling his fingers out to the side like little wings. “You can go inside parts of these rocks. There are little openings that— Hey, Lou! You should try to climb through!”

“Are you implying something about my size?” Louis asks, walking closer and trying to hold the camera steady. 

“No, I’m saying that you’re more, um… scrappy than I am,” Harry says, and then he winks obnoxiously at the camera. 

“Here, take the camera,” Louis says, handing it to him. He sets his backpack on the ground, and walks inside the cavernous part of the rock, leaning out of the opening. Harry stands on the other side, filming him, looking pleased.

It’s fairly easy to scramble up and through the hole in the rock to the outside. He jumps down, brushing the dust off his hands, and Harry says, “Thanks, Lou!”

“Only for you, Harold.” Taking the camera back, Louis continues recording while Harry talks a bit more about the shorter hiking trails at the park, and then they walk back to the camper, grab their toiletry bags, and head straight for the showers. 

It’s now been almost forty-eight hours since they showered, and Louis scrubs himself from head to toe. It’s still hot as fuck outside, maybe even hotter than it was when they started out that afternoon, and the showers aren’t air conditioned, so he turns the water all the way to cold and lets it run over him. 

“Harry?” 

“Yeah, babe,” Harry says from the stall beside him, and it sends a little spark up Louis’ spine to hear him say that so casually. 

“I’m going to have to shave,” Louis says, sticking his face under the water. Trimming his beard and mustache works fine, but it’s so hot out that he feels like he’s wearing a sweater on his face. 

“Boo,” Harry jeers, but Louis can hear the smile in his voice. “Too hot for facial hair?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Louis says, and Harry laughs. 

“Lou, it’s your face. Do what you want with it.”

“I know, but you like it.”

“I like _you,_ Lewis.” 

Back at the camper, they discuss whether or not to buy a slow cooker. It’s one of the most domestic conversations Louis has ever had, and he can’t stop smiling at Harry through the whole thing. He doesn’t even care if they buy one. He’d buy two of the most expensive ones available if it’d make Harry happy. But he’d rather sit there and listen to his well-researched thoughts about which one they should purchase and why. It’s fascinating. 

On Monday, they hike the longer trails, starting early and taking a break in the middle of the day to eat lunch and cool off in the air conditioned camper, before heading back out. After showers and dinner, they send their footage off to Niall. It’s not late, but after more than eight weeks on the road, it’s starting to wear on them both. 

Louis isn’t an inactive person. He has a gym membership through work, and he goes sometimes to play racquetball or basketball. He rides bikes with Niall because Niall once bet him a case of Stella Artois that he couldn’t keep up with him, and he did, and also discovered that he liked it. He plays soccer on the weekends and in the spring and fall, he helps coach the kids’ teams at the community center. And he knows Harry works out, running and lifting weights. But the constant physical activity with long drives in between are exhausting. Thankfully, the next drive is only three hours long, and they plan to leave Nevada as late as possible. 

“Your phone’s ringing,” Harry says, sliding it across the table. The ringer hasn’t been on in so long, Louis doesn’t remember turning it off. 

“It’s Niall. FaceTime,” Louis says, lifting his phone and answering, “Neil.”

“Howdy, campers!” Niall says, waving at his phone.

“How are things back in the real world?” Harry asks, scooting around the dinette table to sit beside Louis.

“Ah, you know. It’s July in DC. Hot and humid,” Niall says. 

“We’re in the fucking desert, man,” Louis says. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Niall says, “How is it?”

“Hot,” Louis says.

“Gorgeous,” Harry says. “And hot, yeah.”

“So, listen, I’m glad I’ve got you both. I started looking at your footage from Washington—”

“Cape Not A Disappointment!” Harry says, elbowing Louis, who huffs a laugh.

“Right,” Niall says slowly. “Anyway. The yurt was pretty cool—”

“Wasn’t it?” Harry asks, and Louis smiles at him. 

“Oh my god,” Niall says, groaning miserably. “I’m so glad you guys got your heads out of your asses, and I’m assuming you’re actually together now and not just fucking each other’s brains out—”

“What?” Louis screeches, dropping his phone on the tabletop. 

Niall’s voice comes through the phone, but Louis leaves it where it is. “As I was saying, I started looking at the footage, and I’m going to cut the yurt tour completely because the shippers in the video comments will definitely notice that you only made one of the beds.”

“Oh, no,” Harry whispers, holding his hand to his mouth. 

“Niall, listen,” Louis says, picking up the phone and clearing his throat. 

“It’s fine, boys,” Niall says, laughing at their obvious panic. “I’m not your boss, and I’m not telling anyone. I just wanted to let you know.”

“You’re not mad?” Harry asks, leaning in.

“No,” Niall says, holding his phone closer to his face and rolling his eyes right in the camera. “So you guys are, like, dating?”

“Yeah,” Louis says, unable to control his grin when he turns to Harry and finds him smiling back. 

“Oh, gross,” Niall says, making a disgusted face. “Oh, yuck. God, I can feel the fondness through the phone. Is this what it’s going to be like living with you guys? Ooh, are we still going to be roomies? I want details.”

“I, um…” Louis frowns, wanting to say yes, but not wanting to speak for Harry. 

“We decided to wait to talk about that, Niall,” Harry says, resting his hand on Louis’ thigh under the table. “I think we both figured working together was more of a pressing issue.”

“Makes sense,” Niall says. “So, I’ll keep an eye out for any other on camera slip ups. You guys… I mean, everything else has been fine. And I don’t want you to change anything as far as how you interact because it’s great.”

“Thanks, Niall,” Louis and Harry say simultaneously. 

Niall groans again. “I’m hanging up. Bye!”

“Oh my god,” Harry says as soon as the screen goes black. He lays his head on Louis’ shoulder and squeezes Louis’ thigh. 

“You okay?” Louis asks, kissing the top of his head.

“Do you still want me to move in with you and Niall?” Harry asks quietly. 

A laugh takes Louis by surprise, making him sputter, and he says, “I thought we were waiting to talk about that.”

Harry sits up, staring straight ahead. “That’s fine.”

“Harold,” Louis says, but Harry slides around the table to the other side and stands. “If you—”

“No, you’re right. We did say that. And of course things are different now. Like, it’s not the same thing to be roommates with your coworker when your coworker is your boyfriend and I—”

“Harry,” Louis says, standing and grabbing Harry’s arms before he can turn away, but he won’t look up, keeping his chin tucked to his chest. “Yes, I want you to live with me. Me and Niall. All three of us. Living together.”

Looking at Louis through his eyelashes, a smile tugs at the corners of Harry's mouth. “Do I have to sleep in the converted porch room?”

“Yes,” Louis says, frowning and nodding once. 

“Lewis.”

“Harold.”

“Lewis.”

“No, babe,” Louis says, and Harry's dimples break through. “If you want, you can sleep on the couch.” Harry gasps, affronted, and wrenches his hand out of Louis’ grasp, pinching his nipple. Jerking away, Louis yells, “You can sleep with Niall!”

Harry narrows his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “You know I prefer to sleep naked.”

Mimicking Harry's posture, Louis says, “So does Niall.”

“Louis,” Harry whines, dropping his arms to his sides and throwing his head back. 

“Yeah, baby?” Slipping his hands around Harry's waist, Louis pulls him closer. 

“Don’t make me sleep naked with Niall,” Harry says, pouting.

“Alright,” Louis says, pondering whether to drag this out any longer. “I guess you could sleep with me.”

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fic post](https://kingsofeverything.tumblr.com/post/630877050004209664/by-kingsofeverything-with-fantastic-art-by)


	5. Chapter 5

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

They’re on the way to Utah, loudly singing along to Carly Rae Jepsen’s “I Really Like You” when Harry's phone rings, cutting off what feels like a very appropriate song. 

Harry sucks air through his teeth, scowling at his phone. “It’s Bryan.”

Rather than throw Harry's phone out the window, which is Louis’ first instinct, he pushes his jealousy aside. “You don’t want to answer?”

“Not really,” Harry says, “But I suppose I should, right?”

“Up to you, babe,” Louis says, keeping his eyes on the road. He reaches over, tucking Harry's hair behind his ear, and rests his hand on the back of his neck, rubbing his thumb up and down. 

Leaning into Louis' touch, Harry answers his phone, “Hello? Bryan?”

Just like every other conversation between them that Louis overheard, Harry seems annoyed. 

“No,” Harry says, “I did not say that. I said you could drop it off with Gemma. I asked you to— I’m in Nevada, Bryan.”

“Utah,” Louis corrects, not thinking about it. 

“Utah. Thanks, Lou— Yes, Louis is  _ with me.”  _ Harry unbuckles his seat belt, and slides to the middle seat, knocking Louis’ hand off his neck with his movements. “I’m not— I refuse to have this conversation.” He buckles himself in, and grabs Louis’ hand, putting it back where it was, and Louis laughs quietly, twirling his fingers in Harry's curls. “It’s been a month and a half! I don’t want it. That’s disgusting. Either do what I asked you to do or throw it out. I don’t care. Don’t— Don't call me again. Like, lose my number.” Harry sighs, and says, “Well, I was wrong. I don’t  _ want _ to be friends with you.” 

Harry pulls his phone away from his ear and plugs it back into the audio. 

“He hung up on me,” Harry says. 

“That was, um…” 

“I’m sorry,” Harry says, pushing his sunglasses into his hair. “You shouldn’t have to listen to that.”

“Don’t apologize,” Louis says, stretching his arm out along the seat behind Harry. “You want to talk about it? I mean, only if you want.”

“You don’t want to hear that,” Harry says, poking at his phone. 

“I want to hear everything you have to say, Harold. I listened to you talk about Crockpots versus InstantPots for like an hour.”

“You did,” Harry says, rolling his lips between his teeth. “You didn’t have to. Could’ve told me to shut up.”

“How else am I supposed to learn the difference?” Louis asks. He takes a deep breath and says, “Harry, if you want to talk to me about Bryan, do. I’m not going to force you. But don’t  _ not _ talk to me because you think I don’t want to hear it.”

“Do you want to talk about your exes?” Harry asks, turning to look at him. 

Louis glances over. “If you want. Yeah. Anything you want to know, baby. Ask.”

Pinching and pulling his lower lip, Harry says, “Okay. Besides Chad, I don’t know of anyone you’ve dated.”

“It’s been a while,” Louis says, watching out of the corner of his eye while Harry smears Chapstick on his lips. “Dated a guy named Nate for two years. We broke up maybe six months before I met you. We’d lived together for almost a year when he started coming home late after work. First just like thirty minutes or so, then he’d be later and later. And we fought about it, like, all the time. Thing was, he was a shit liar. He’d just say he lost track of time or something. Some nights, he’d smell like beer and he’d say he stopped for a drink with coworkers, but like… I don’t know. He wouldn’t talk to me and I got sick of it. Moved in with Niall.”

“Bryan was supposed to take anything I’d left at his place and drop it off with Gemma,” Harry says, reaching over his shoulder and tugging on Louis’ fingers. “When I answered, he was like, ‘I thought you were coming to get your stuff.’ And he started listing everything. It’s not much. A couple of books, some clothes. But then he… There was some, um… some sex stuff? Like, toys? And he asked if he should give them to Gemma!”

“Eww…” Louis lightly scratches Harry’s shoulder, and says, “He didn’t take the breakup well, I guess.”

Shaking his head, Harry says, “I don’t think so. Are you mad?”

“About what?”

“You know, the sex toy stuff.”

“Harold, I didn’t think you were a blushing virgin. Why would I be mad?”

Harry shrugs. “Not sure.”

“Okay, well, I’m not, but also I’d like to replace all of your sex toys with brand new, never been used ones.”

“Really?” Harry asks, laughing when Louis nods. “Can I help pick them out?”

“Sure, babe. Whatever you want.”

“Do you have any other ex-boyfriends?” Harry asks, scratching Louis’ beard along his jaw. He’s going to miss that once he shaves.

“One. In college I dated a guy named Sean for like two semesters. First guy I ever had sex with. Found out at the end of spring semester that he was lying about his age. And he was divorced.”

“Our combined dating history is horrible,” Harry says, kissing Louis’ cheek.

“I don’t know. Had a girlfriend in high school named Hannah. She was alright.”

“You had a girlfriend?”

“Yep. I didn’t figure out I was gay until I went off to college,” Louis says, remembering how shocked he’d been when he first realised, and then how so many little bits and pieces from his past seemed to make so much more sense. “She’s actually a lesbian. Saw her at my ten year reunion.”

“Did you have sex with her?” Harry whispers his question, fingers pressed to his lips. “You know, back then?”

“Nope.” Louis shakes his head, and says, “She took a purity pledge with her church youth group, and I was a very, very supportive boyfriend.”

Harry lets loose a barking laugh and hides his face in Louis’ shoulder. When his giggles die down, he turns the music on, and they get back to singing along at the top of their lungs. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

“Hello, we’re in Utah at the Coral Pink Sand Dunes State Park,” Louis says, standing on the viewing platform above the dunes. “I’ll be honest, when we were deciding on where to go, I wasn’t excited about coming here. We’d already planned to go to Bruneau Dunes in Idaho, and I kind of thought dunes are dunes. But, I was wrong and I’m not afraid to say it.”

“I’m actually… Hold on a second.” Harry frowns at the camera in his hands, then sets it on the flat top of the railing that goes around the platform, and squats down to dig through his backpack. He waves the camera bracket triumphantly, and attaches the camera to the platform, taking a peek through the lens before joining Louis on the other side. “Sorry, guys. No one else’s here, so we can both be on camera and not worry about getting in anyone’s way.”

“I was thinking about how much Niall must edit out of our footage,” Louis says, when Harry leans back against the railing beside him. “Episodes are what, half an hour? We’re recording hours and hours at each park.”

“Poor Niall,” Harry says, grinning at the camera. 

“We love you, Niall!” Louis yells.

“Alright, alright. Back to work, I guess,” Harry says, nudging Louis with his elbow. “Unlike Louis, I was really excited about this park because who doesn’t want to see pink sand?”

“True, but I’m more into the idea of driving on it.”

“Yeah, should be fun,” Harry says. “So, tomorrow we’ll be driving OHVs—that’s off-highway vehicles—on the dunes.”

Louis does a little happy dance that makes Harry laugh. He smiles at him, realizes he probably looks like a lovestruck idiot, and turns back to the camera. “They have some areas that are for OHVs only, so it’s as safe as it can be. In the morning, we’ll spend some time on a couple of four-wheelers, and then we get to take a side-by-side UTV—that’s utility terrain vehicle—together, which will be fun because I’m sure we’ll fight about who gets to drive.”

“We can flip for it,” Harry suggests. 

“We’ll see,” Louis says, winking at the camera. “For now, we’re going to walk out on the sand. The sun’s about to set, which should be pretty to see. Hopefully it’ll look nice for you guys, too. Otherwise, Niall’ll have to edit it out.”

“You think we can just leave the camera?” Harry asks, peeking through the lens again. 

“Yeah, should be fine, I think,” Louis says, twisting the knob to loosen the bracket. “Want to move it over so just the dunes and sky are in the shot.” 

Louis sets up the camera on the far railing overlooking the dunes, facing west. They take off their shoes, and leave them with their backpacks on the platform. 

“Oh… It’s so soft,” Harry says, wiggling his toes in the sand as soon as they step foot off the walkway. 

“Yeah, weird,” Louis says, bending over and dragging his fingertip through the sand. The grains are much finer than any other sand he’s seen, and it feels almost like powder. “You want to roll down a dune and we’ll see if it sticks to you the same?”

“Fuck off,” Harry says, shoving him and kicking sand at him.

Once they get onto the dune, Louis looks back at the camera. They’re definitely in the shot, so he refrains from reaching for Harry's hand, but he lets himself look. If he trips and falls, at least the sand is soft. Instead of a ponytail on top of his head, today Harry’s got some sort of clip holding his hair back, and a blue bandana keeping the stray curls off his face. 

“Harold,” Louis whispers when they get to the top of the dune. 

“Lewis,” Harry whispers back, turning to look at him, smile playing on his lips. 

“You’re cute,” Louis says, and Harry’s little smile morphs into a wide grin, dimples like craters in his cheeks. It takes all of Louis’ restraint to keep from poking him, then he remembers that he did that before they got together, so he reaches out and gently pokes Harry’s left dimple, not caring if he’s on camera. “Beautiful, really. Have I told you that?” Harry shakes his head, and Louis drops his hand to his hip. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, scrunching his nose. “Thank you. You know I think you’re, like, so gorgeous.”

“Thanks, babe,” Louis says, pursing his lips and blowing him a quick kiss. “Wait. But I haven’t said that?”

“Not that I remember? You called me pretty.”

“Well, you’re that, too,” Louis says, frowning and wondering if he’s been keeping his compliments to Harry in his head. “Have to remedy that, babe.”

“You just did.”

“Not good enough,” Louis says with a shrug. He jerks his head back towards the platform. “Want to watch the sunset from back there? Let me kiss you where the camera can’t see?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, and starts down the dune ahead of him.

They kiss while the sun goes down, both of them doing their best to keep quiet so the camera doesn’t pick up anything. Then, while Harry makes dinner, Louis shaves with his brand new razor. His beard is ridiculous, even with trimming it the few times he has, it’s longer than he’s ever let it grow. Before he can use the razor, he has to cut it with scissors to make it manageable, and when he finally wipes the remaining shaving cream away, and splashes water on his face, he rolls his eyes at his reflection. Despite the religious application of sunscreen, he has a tan line from his beard. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

“It’s cute,” Harry insists, not for the first time. 

After Louis got back to the camper, and Harry got the giggles out of his system, he tried to make Louis feel better about his beard tan line by kissing all over the paler skin. And while it did make him forget about how ridiculous he felt for a few minutes, he’s still grumpy about it.

“It’s not,” Louis says, checking that the GoPro is firmly attached to his helmet. 

“Okay, but  _ I _ think it’s cute,” Harry says, putting his own helmet on. “And your helmet covers it. No one can see, and your beard will grow back in before we’ll be recording in Arizona, so no one will know.”

“Yeah, but I still look stupid,” Louis says, pouting behind the helmet hiding the lower half of his face. 

Louis can't see it, but somehow he knows Harry's scowling at him when he reaches up, turns on his camera, and asks, “You recording?”

“Hold on,” Louis says, turning his camera on. “I am now.”

“Okay,” Harry says, twisting a bit in his seat to face the camera on Louis’ helmet. “We’re about to go out on these ATVs, which are for rent near the Visitor Center here at the park. Safety first! Lou and I have both driven four-wheelers before, otherwise we wouldn’t be doing this.”

“We’re also wearing appropriate clothes,” Louis says, gesturing to his long hiking pants, long sleeve t-shirt, then holding his hands up and wiggling his fingers to show off his gloves. “Ready?”

“Yeah, one more thing!” Harry points to Louis and says, “You guys can’t tell, but Louis shaved his beard and he has a tan line from it. He’s been whining about it all morning, and even though you can’t see it, he says he looks stupid. So, I want to ask you guys to let us know in the comments which is more embarrassing: Louis’ beard tan line, me falling down the dunes in Idaho, Louis’ bum getting stuck in the cave in Iowa, or my reaction to Louis scaring the shit out of me in the ghost town in Montana.”

“I suppose you think you’ve made some sort of point,” Louis says, and flips his visor down. 

Nodding, Harry says, “I do.”

Louis revs his engine and starts down the dune, smiling behind his visor. His vote is for his ass getting stuck in a cave, but they’ve got eighteen more parks to visit after Utah, and anything can happen. 

The time on the four-wheelers passes quickly, with both of them being careful to avoid fishtailing or drifting in the soft sand. The last thing they need is to flip over and wind up in the hospital. 

After they return the four-wheelers, and are shown to the side-by-side UTV they’ll be driving, Harry says, “You can drive first since you let me make fun of you on camera.”

Louis scoffs. “You make fun of me all the time, Harold. This is no different.”

“So you don’t want to drive?”

“No, I’m driving, but not because you let me,” Louis says, taking the keys and sliding into the driver’s seat. “Get in, babe. We’ve only got an hour.”

The side-by-side UTV is narrow, practically putting them shoulder to shoulder, and the whole time Louis is driving, Harry has one hand on the “Oh, Shit!” handle and one on Louis’ thigh. He squeezes both every time Louis turns or speeds up. About half an hour passes, then Louis drives to the edge of the UTV area, parking so they can switch places. 

When Louis takes off his helmet to comb his fingers through his sweaty hair, he winds up shoved up against the roll bar while Harry kisses him, taking advantage of Louis’ confusion by slipping his tongue into Louis’ open mouth. Harry reaches down and greedily palms Louis’ ass, nipping at his lips. 

Louis turns his head and breaks the kiss, panting. “What was that for?”

“You driving this thing,” Harry says, pulling the collar of Louis’ shirt to the side, leaning down and roughly sucking a kiss to his shoulder. “It’s hot.”

Pushing Harry away so the roll bar isn’t uncomfortably pressed against his spine, Louis laughs, and puts his helmet back on. “You’re easy.”

“For you, maybe,” Harry says with a shrug.

“Alright, babe,” Louis says, pinching Harry’s ass the second he bends over to pick his helmet up off the ground. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Sweaty and sandy isn’t Louis’ preferred state to be in to get a blow job, but it’s hard to argue when they get back to the camper and Harry says, “Let me suck you off. Been thinking about it all day.”

There’s so little floor space in the camper that Louis winds up lying on the dinette bench, feet on the floor, with his shirt rucked up to his armpits, his pants down to his knees and his boots still on, while Harry crouches on the floor and works him over with his mouth. It’s sloppy and wet, and he has to crane his neck to watch Harry’s pink lips stretched tight around him, sucking him down. 

Harry slips a finger between Louis’ cheeks, and Louis blushes at how dirty it feels to have Harry’s dry fingertip drag over his sweat damp skin. It stings when he pushes inside, but Harry moans, and the vibrations around his dick combined with Harry's finger sliding farther inside, have his balls drawing up, bringing him to the edge of his orgasm. 

Taking a deep breath and letting it out, Louis’ body relaxes around Harry’s finger. His stomach muscles contract, and warmth flows through his body, arms and legs twitching and tingling as he comes, flooding Harry’s mouth. 

“Sorry, baby, sorry,” Louis says, trying to catch his breath. 

Harry swipes his thumb over the come on his lower lip, sucking it clean. He clears his throat, but his voice still cracks when he asks, “What for?”

“Didn’t let you know I was coming,” Louis says, staring up at the ceiling, and wincing when Harry pulls his finger free. “Bad blow job manners.”

Laughing as he gets to his feet, Harry says, “Don’t worry about it, babe.”

“Let me,” Louis says, sitting up and reaching for Harry’s zipper. He sucks Harry down without pretense, tugging on his balls, and scratching at his thighs until Harry’s hips buck out of control. 

“Shit, Lou. You’ll make me come too fast,” Harry says, letting his head fall back. 

His words spur Louis on, and he pulls off, stroking him with his hand and licking teasing circles around the head. He gets his lips back around Harry just in time, and Harry comes, moaning up at the ceiling, fucking into Louis’ mouth. Louis swallows around him, and when he releases Harry’s cock, Harry’ stumbles over to the bench across from him and sits down, laying his head on the table. 

The giggles start with Louis first, but Harry joins in right away, and soon they’re both laughing, shoulders shaking with it, sitting bare assed on the benches where they’re going to have dinner in a little while. 

“Oh my god, Harold,” Louis says, leaning back with a sigh. “You should’ve let me shower first.”

“Too late now,” Harry mumbles, head still resting on the table. 

Forcing himself to stand, Louis holds his hand out and says, “Come on. Let’s go shower before I give up and just go to bed.”

“We haven’t had dinner,” Harry says, taking Louis’ hand, and letting him pull him out of his seat. 

“Shower first, then dinner.”

“Pants back on first, then wash hands, then shower, then dinner,” Harry says. 

“Pants back on, then hands, then kiss me again, then shower, then dinner,” Louis says, and Harry nods, opening his mouth as if to speak, but Louis continues, “Then more kissing, then sleep.”

“Excellent plan,” Harry says, and pulls his pants back up. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

It’s about seven hours to their next stop, and Louis drives first. Harry falls asleep almost as soon as they hit the road, and he’s snoring hard, so Louis doesn’t wake him up, driving five hours before he has to stop to pee and fill up the gas tank. 

“Ugh…” Harry groans miserably, pushing the heels of his hands against his bleary eyes. “Where are we?”

“Little bit south of Flagstaff,” Louis says. “You okay?”

Harry shakes his head and groans again, rubbing his temples. “I think I have your cold.”

“Oh, babe,” Louis says, laying his hand on Harry’s forehead. He brushes his hair back and smooths the line between his eyebrows. “I’m sorry.”

“Hate being sick.”

“Yeah, I know,” Louis says, turning off the truck. “I’ll grab the colds meds and stuff out of the camper.”

“Have to pee,” Harry mumbles, opening the door and climbing out to stretch his arms over his head. 

When they get back to the truck, Louis gives Harry an assortment of cold medicine to choose from, along with a bottle of Lemon Lime Gatorade, and drives from the gas station to the fast food place across the street—Raising Canes. He gets two orders of the ‘three finger combo’ and Harry won’t stop snickering, even after they’re back on the road. 

“Three fingers, look!” Harry holds his three chicken fingers up for Louis to see, and Louis shakes his head. 

“It’s not that funny,” Louis says, checking Harry’s forehead with the back of his wrist. “How bad is your fever?”

“I’m fine, Lewis,” Harry says, swatting his hand away. “Didn’t know we couldn’t make sex jokes.”

“About chicken fingers?” 

“It’s funny!” Harry picks a little bit of breading off of his chicken finger and throws it at Louis. “I can’t imagine working there and having to listen to people order a ‘three finger combo’ all day and not cracking up. Like, in combination with what?”

“I’m sure they get a lot of ‘that’s what she said’ and shit like that,” Louis says. 

“Oh, yeah. No.” Harry takes a bite of chicken, and chews thoughtfully. “Maybe I do have a fever.”

Huffing a quiet laugh, Louis says, “Maybe. But you took stuff. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Thank you for buying me chicken,” Harry says, sipping his Gatorade. “Not usually hungry when I’m sick, but I was starving.”

“Maybe you’re pregnant,” Louis says, hoping to make Harry smile. He pouts instead.

“I want to have kids one day. Kind of wish I had a uterus to carry them in, but… If wishes and buts were berries and nuts…” 

“We’d all have a bowl of granola,” Louis says, finishing for him. “Sorry, babe. Wasn’t trying to upset you. I was trying to make you laugh.”

“I’m not upset,” Harry says quietly. He wraps his food up and puts it back in the bag, setting the bag on the seat between them, and leaning his seat back, looking out the passenger window. “You’ve been my boyfriend for two weeks.”

“That’s true,” Louis says, watching from the corner of his eye as Harry blindly reaches for him, head still turned towards the window. He takes Harry’s hand and laces their fingers together.

“I was just thinking about how, ’cause we’ve known each other for a while, there’s all this stuff about me that I don’t have to tell you,” Harry says, shifting in his seat to face Louis. “And vice versa, I guess. Like, little things, like how we take our coffee, and bigger stuff, like… like we both want to get married one day and have kids.”

“Yeah…” Louis says, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “We know a lot about each other.”

“I— I like you a whole lot, Louis Tomlinson,” Harry says, and when Louis glances over he’s watching him intently. 

“I like you a tiny, little bit, Harry Styles,” Louis says, and Harry lets go of his hand, pinching his side. “Okay, okay! Maybe it’s more than that.”

“Maybe?”

“Maybe,” Louis says, nodding and checking the traffic behind them in his side view mirror. “Maybe it’s more than I know what to do with.”

When he looks back at Harry, his lips are parted, and his eyes are closed. He seems to be asleep. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

“Wake up, baby,” Louis whispers, combing his fingers through Harry’s sweaty curls. “Harold, wakey wakey.”

Slowly, Harry blinks his eyes open. “Where are we?”

“Holiday Inn,” Louis says, pointing to the building they’re parked in front of. “It’s too hot to sleep in the camper with you sick.”

“Lou, we don’t need—”

“I already paid for the room,” Louis says before he can argue. “I called Liam and explained and he said the company has a deal with Holiday Inn, so it was cheap and they’ll pay me back.”

“A real bed?” Harry sits up, rubbing his eyes. He unbuckles his seatbelt and fumbles to open his Gatorade, finishing the bottle. “Is there a bathtub?”

“Probably,” Louis says, turning off the truck. “Let’s go in. I’ll come back down for whatever we need from the camper.”

“I can carry stuff,” Harry says, frowning and opening the door. 

“It’s a hundred and seven degrees outside, Harold. Inside we have air conditioning, a bed, a shower, maybe a bath, and a television,” Louis says, getting out of the truck and shutting the door. “Plus, I have the keys. And I’m not unlocking the camper.”

Louis starts towards the entrance, and Harry catches up to him a few seconds later. “Don’t be mean to me. I’m sick.”

“I’m being nice to you, Harold. This is a Holiday Inn,” Louis says, breathing a sigh of relief when they step into the cool air of the lobby. “Not a Holiday Inn Express. This is the fancier Holiday Inn.”

“Tell me there’s a king size bed,” Harry says when they get to the counter.

“We’ll see.”

There’s a king size bed, a bathtub, and a television. The second they walk into the room, Harry strips out of his clothes and is under the sheets before Louis can turn on the TV. He gives Harry the remote, and goes down to the camper to get their shower bags, clothes, phone chargers, and the laptop. While Harry zones out with the TV, Louis plans to use the time and free WiFi wisely. 

They wind up cuddling and watching cartoons, and Louis orders pizza for dinner, running down to the lobby to wait for it. While he’s there, he calls Niall to check in and update him. 

It’s such a change, sleeping in a big, fluffy bed, and having the bathroom right there is especially nice with all the Gatorade Harry’s been drinking. As much as Harry slept during the day, he passes out relatively early that night, and while he’s still sick the next morning, he’s in much better spirits. 

Rather than soak in the tub, he takes a long shower, and invites Louis to get in with him. Of course, Louis can’t say no to that. Standing behind him, with his chest to Harry’s back, Louis washes him, and when Harry whines, he jerks him off, kissing his shoulder and holding him tight while he comes. At Harry’s insistence, Louis gets off while he watches, stroking himself slower than he normally would until Harry steps closer and slides his hands over Louis’ wet skin, slipping his fingers between his cheeks. With Harry’s long finger pumping in and out of his body, Louis can’t hold back, and comes a moment later, free hand braced against the shower wall.

Louis does most of the exploring at Arizona’s Kartchner Caverns State Park on his own. Neither of them want Harry to overdo it when they’re going to have another Walmart parking lot overnight on the way to Heron Lake State Park in New Mexico. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

When they get to the Socorro, New Mexico Walmart on Sunday, it’s around one in the afternoon and almost a hundred degrees. Louis turns off the truck, and they go inside the store to buy a few things. But when they get back and he climbs into the camper so Harry can pass him the grocery bags, it’s like standing in an oven. 

“Can’t do it, babe,” Louis says, jumping down out of the camper. “It’s too fucking hot.”

“It’s supposed to be cooler tonight,” Harry says, checking his phone, and showing Louis the forecast on the screen. 

“Yeah, but it’s hotter than it was at the Walmart on the way to Nevada and that was miserable,” Louis sighs quietly, moving around the side of the camper to stand in its shade and waiting for Harry to follow. “Without the A/C, it’s hotter in the camper than it is outside. And there’s no air circulation. I know it’s what we planned, but I think it’s a bad idea.”

Harry huffs, crossing his arms and looking away. “What do you propose we do then?”

“Not sure,” Louis says, unlocking his phone to search for nearby campgrounds. There’s no way he’ll be able to convince Liam to spring for another hotel, and he doesn’t think Harry would go for that anyway. “Okay, there’s a campground a few miles down the road. Full RV hookups, eighteen dollars a night, and…” He clicks the ‘Book Now’ button and selects the correct date, a moment later, he takes a relieved breath. “They have a spot available, and we can rent it for just the night.”

“Okay,” Harry says, kicking the toe of his sneaker against the back tire. “If that’s what you want.”

“I mean, yeah,” Louis says with a short laugh. He quickly fills out the rest of the reservation and confirms it. “I want to sleep tonight. Don’t you?”

“We’d sleep.” 

“Maybe  _ you’d _ sleep,” Louis says, gently pinching Harry’s hip. “But it’d be so uncomfortable, and we’d be sweaty and gross and hot, and we have to drive four hours tomorrow.”

“I know,” Harry says, still sounding annoyed.

“What’s with you?” Louis asks, lifting Harry’s chin with his finger so he’ll look him in the eye. “I thought you were feeling better.”

“I am,” Harry insists, moving away from Louis and leaning against the side of the truck. “I’m pissed ’cause this was my idea and it sucks.”

“Pissed at me?” Louis asks.

“No, at me. And like, where are the other Walmarts? Texas, Florida and Georgia. It’s going to be just as hot, probably, and humid as fuck, and we might as well scrap our plans and stay somewhere else.”

“You want to?” Louis asks. He expected to have to convince Harry along the way, but this might be less stressful.

“No.”

“Harold.”

“Can you let me be mad at myself for like, a day?” 

“I can try,” Louis says, tugging Harry’s hand until he uncrosses his arms. “Come on, babe. You can be as mad as you want for now, but let’s find something air conditioned to do.”

Of all of the things available nearby, they decide on the Mineral Museum. 

“I was so into geology when I was a kid,” Harry says when they walk through the doors. 

“Were you really?” Louis pushes his sunglasses into his hair, and scratches his short beard. Harry was right, it grew back fast. 

“Yeah, I had a neighbor who was a rockhound and—”

“Is that an actual term or…”

“It’s a real thing,” Harry says, bumping Louis with his elbow. “She was this cool old lady, and it was her hobby. Her garage was set up with tables and rock polishers and she would, like, let me help.”

“You were a sweet little boy, weren’t you, Harold?”

Harry shrugs. “Sometimes.”

“Still are, babe,” Louis says, rubbing his knuckle down the back of Harry’s arm. “Teach me? I should probably know what I’m looking at for the state park in Arkansas.”

“That’s why I wanted to go to that one,” Harry says, pressing his lips together when he smiles, and looking a bit like a frog. “Wanted to impress you with my knowledge.”

“Impress away, then,” Louis says, and follows Harry to the first display. 

A lot of the museum displays are hands on, and they’re able to hold the specimens, some of which are quite large. They even have a number of items for sale, and it takes a good bit of restraint not to pull out his credit card when Harry poses with a massive amethyst and asks Louis to take his picture, grinning and telling him it’s his birthstone. 

They do buy matching t-shirts that say ‘Geology Rocks’ on the front. 

When they check in at the campground, Harry’s a little bit grumpy about it, but after they hook up the camper and go for a walk around the park, Louis distracts him with a drawn out handjob, and he’s in a much better mood after that. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

Instead of their usual introductory bike ride around the park, when they get to New Mexico’s Heron Lake State Park, they head straight for the lake. While planning the trip, they debated whether to take sailing lessons or just go for a ride on a catamaran, and eventually settled on a two hour tour of the lake. Neither of them have ever ridden on a catamaran before, so there’ll be enough to remember without trying to learn how to sail the boat themselves. 

They help push the boat into the water, and hop onto either side, with Harry on his own, and Louis in the front beside the skipper. Even thinking the word skipper makes him smile, and he finds himself unable to refer to Skipper Pat as anything at all, worried that using just his first name will seem disrespectful. It’s hard enough listening to Harry earnestly call him Skipper over and over again. 

Heron Lake is fairly large, and they won’t be able to see the whole thing over the few days they’ll spend at the park, but since they plan to go kayaking, they sail to the areas that they should be able to easily paddle to. Heron Dam is considered a must-see part of the lake, but not because of the dam. Right beside it are cliffs lined with swallow nests, and hundreds of birds soar in arcs and loops overhead.

“They eat mosquitoes and other flying insects,” Skipper Pat says, pointing up at the dozens and dozens of nests lining the jagged edges of the cliffs. “Nature’s pest control.”

“Whoa…” Harry shades his eyes with his hand, and Louis turns to look over his shoulder. In the distance are two other catamarans that look like they’re about to capsize. “Are they okay?”

“Yeah. Move to the front, Harry. Louis, take my place,” Skipper Pat says, crawling under to the other side of the boat beside Harry, and tightening the sail as they pull away from the dam. “What they’re doing is called flying the hull.”

“They’re doing that on purpose?” Louis asks, leaning down to look under the sail at Skipper Pat.

Skipper Pat laughs, a belly laugh far too jolly and Santa-like. “On purpose. You want to try?”

“Will we tip over?” Harry asks.

“Not likely, but if we capsize, the boat floats upside down,” Skipper Pat says with a wink. “Okay, Louis, how fast can you move?”

“Pretty fast, I guess.” Louis shrugs. “What do you want me to do?”

“Well, so far we’ve just been cruising. No need to tuck your feet under the straps,” Skipper Pat says, tugging on the canvas strap that runs from one end of the boat to the other on both sides. “But to fly the hull, we’ll have to get away from shore to where the wind picks up. Harry here will stay put.” He turns to Harry and says, “Tuck your feet, young man.” Louis slides his foot under the strap, and Skipper Pat nods. “Do that for now, but when I say ‘go’ you’re going to slide over here between us, and secure yourself.” 

“Okay. I can do that,” Louis says, stomach fluttering with anxiety. 

There are two handles on one of the lines between Pat and Harry, and Harry grabs hold of one at Pat’s encouragement. The boat picks up speed, and Louis’ eyes dart back and forth from Harry’s excited face to Pat’s concentrated expression, waiting for instructions. 

As they sail faster, Pat steers the boat into the wind, and tightens the mainsail. Louis feels the boat start to tip, and clenches his fists, ignoring his hair whipping around his face. Gradually, the pontoon on Louis’ side dips into the water, and the pontoon on the other side rises out of the lake. 

“Go, Louis!” Pat shouts, and Louis scrambles across the boat on his stomach, flipping over and grabbing the handle, tucking both feet under the strap. 

Louis shrieks with laughter as the boat tips even farther, heart pounding in his chest. They drop back down onto the water when Pat loosens the sail. He turns to them and asks, “Again?”

They fly the hull until Skipper Pat says his arms are tired, and they spend the rest of their time on the boat checking out the kayaking spots they didn’t get to earlier. It’s a perfect introduction to the park and a perfect afternoon. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

Because it’s a no-wake lake, the water is like glass when they first paddle out the next morning, and Louis doesn’t realize how quiet they’ve been until they approach the dam, and the noise of the swallows pulls him out of his daze. They stay out until lunch time, and take a rest before spending the afternoon hiking. 

Halfway across the suspension bridge over Rio Chama, Harry grabs Louis’ hand, jerking him to a stop, and the entire bridge sways. Before Louis can complain, Harry slips his arm around his waist and kisses him, holding his phone up to take a selfie. 

“Harold, you know I’ve got my backpack camera recording,” Louis reminds him, tapping the strap of his backpack and raising his eyebrows. 

“Sorry, Niall,” Harry says, bending down so he’s level with the camera. “I’m sorry. I forgot. Don’t hate me.”

“Hate him, Niall,” Louis says, kissing Harry again. 

After their hike and dinner, they hit the showers. It's nice to have Harry back, so to speak, with only a sniffle here and there. But as much as he’d like to take advantage of Harry’s newly regained ability to breathe through his nose by kissing him senseless, Louis refrains from sneaking into his shower stall and doing that. 

He finishes first, waiting outside on the sidewalk for Harry, and when Harry finally joins him, Louis is feeling silly enough to skip over to him and take his hand. It’s not far back to the camper, and their flip flops smack against the pavement as they walk. 

“Hey, Lou?” 

“Yep,” Louis says, swinging their arms between them and bumping their hips together. When Harry tries to bump him back, Louis steps out of the way, off the path and right into a shallow hole. Pain shoots up from his ankle. “Shit!”

“What—” Harry stops when Louis lets go of his hand, and hurries to steady him with an arm around his waist. 

“Stepped in a fucking hole,” Louis grumbles. He tries to put weight on it and it hurts enough to make him hiss. “Goddamn it.”

“Here, babe,” Harry says, moving to stand in front of him and squatting down a bit. “Piggyback.”

“Harold, you are  _ not _ carrying me.” Slowly, he stretches his ankle, circling it, and then takes a step, whining when it’s just as painful. “Fuck. Okay. But this is worse than getting my ass stuck in a cave.”

“It’s not,” Harry says, bending his knees and slapping his thighs like he’s a horse. “Giddy up.”

“I will  _ not  _ giddy up.” 

As dignified as he can, he hops onto Harry's back, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. With his hands holding Louis’ thighs, Harry hitches him up higher, and whinnies. Louis ignores him. 

“Want to know why this isn’t worse than the cave?” Harry asks. When Louis only grunts in response, Harry says, “Because now we’re dating. If we weren’t dating, I’d maybe agree. Guess why.”

Louis hides his face in Harry's wet curls. “I’d be paranoid that you’d be able to feel my dick and then I’d probably somehow manage to give myself an erection from smelling your hair or something stupid like that.”

“Smelling my hair?” Harry asks. 

“Shut up,” Louis says, tightening his grip. He kisses the side of his neck. “Thanks for carrying me.”

“Anytime, Lou,” Harry says, and carefully backs up to the picnic table at their campsite so Louis can sit down. “Wait here and I’ll open the door.”

“You can’t carry me into the camper.”

“No, but the less you’re on that foot, the better.”

Once he opens the door, he helps Louis to the camper and, using the door frame, Louis hops up the steps. He drops onto the dinette bench and slides back to the corner so he can prop his foot up. 

“Neat!” Harry says, pulling something rectangular and plastic out of the first aid kit. He bends it and it cracks. “Instant ice pack.”

“They thought of everything,” Louis says, holding the cold compress to his ankle. It’s not  _ that _ bad. He knows it’s not broken, and will probably feel fine in a day or two, but it sucks to get injured by stepping in a hole while wearing flip flops. It doesn't even make a good story.

There are five more instant ice packs in their first aid kit, so Harry cracks a second, and ties one of his bandanas around them to keep them in place. Louis takes some ibuprofen, and lets Harry help him into the bed, then he lays down on his back with his foot elevated on their duffel bag full of laundry. After turning off the lights, Harry carefully climbs over him, cuddling up to his side and resting his head on Louis’ chest. It isn’t long before Harry’s asleep, snoring quietly, and drooling on him, which should be gross, but is somehow endearing. 

Louis gently combs his fingers through Harry’s still damp hair, inhaling the scent of his shampoo. The same shampoo that Louis has been using the whole trip, just like they’ve shared everything else. It’s not the smell of Harry’s shampoo that gets to him, it’s Harry smelling like him that makes him feel almost proprietorial. Barely into week ten of their trip, not even three weeks together as a couple, and Louis is in deep. 

Since he doesn't have a lot of experience in relationships, and the experiences he's had were mostly bad, it’s hard to judge, but he doesn’t ever want to let Harry go. And if he’s wrong, he might run away to live in the woods, never to be seen or heard from again, but it seems like Harry feels the same. 

Kissing the top of Harry’s head, Louis trails his hand over Harry’s arm, and pulls the blanket up to cover them. The ice packs aren’t cold anymore, but he’s unwilling to disturb Harry in order to take them off. He falls asleep with his fingers in Harry’s curls and wakes up the next morning with Harry’s face buried in his armpit. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

Harry drives the whole way to Colorado—five hours—without complaining, but Louis does enough of that for both of them. His ankle’s fine. It’s sore, but it’s fine. Or it will be. But all they planned to do at Mueller State Park in Colorado was hike, and while the stubborn part of him wants to wrap his ankle, shove his foot in his boot, and go out hiking anyway, the part of him that wants to make Harry happy keeps him sitting on his ass. The next park after Colorado is Prairie Dog State Park in Kansas, and Harry’s been looking forward to seeing the prairie dog colony there. Not that Harry wouldn’t be able to see it if Louis reinjured himself, but he wants to see Harry’s reaction. 

So while they’re in Colorado, Louis hangs out in the camper, and Harry goes hiking with one of the park rangers, who graciously offered to act as a guide when Harry checked them in and explained the situation. It sucks. Louis hates it. And he misses Harry, which he hates even more, because they’ve spent every waking hour together for two months. At this point, he should be thankful for the time alone. 

All of his grumpiness is worth it, though, when they get to Kansas and see the prairie dogs, and Harry’s smile is so big that Louis has to take a picture of him and save it as his lock screen. August starts with such a high, that Louis worries it’ll be downhill from there, especially when, a few hours after they arrive at Black Mesa State Park in Oklahoma, they’re in the middle of a thunderstorm with more lightning than Louis has ever seen. The bolts travel from cloud to cloud, one after the other, occasionally striking the ground. 

They watched the storm roll in, and having never seen the like, didn’t know what to expect—they definitely didn't sign up for tornadoes—but when the other RVs in the park stayed put, they did too. The bright blue sky was soon blocked from view by grey clouds so dark it made it easy to forget it was early evening and not the middle of the night. When the rain came down, it poured, and they could see it coming before it hit, like a wall of water moving towards them. 

“How long has it been?” Louis asks. Laying on his stomach, propped up on his elbows, he can watch the storm from the little window at the head of the bed. 

“Too long,” Harry says beside him, voice muffled by the pillow. 

“This is crazy,” Louis says, jumping when white branches of lightning leap from one cloud to the next and thunder cracks almost immediately. “Jesus.”

Harry inches closer, sliding one arm beneath Louis’ chest and draping the other over his back. The lightning strikes the ground in the distance, and he nuzzles Louis ribs before wedging his head between Louis and the bed. 

“What are you doing?” Louis asks, looking down at him and kissing the crown of his head.

“Hiding.”

“Are you scared of the storm?”

Shaking his head, Harry says, “No. It’s just loud. Making my head hurt.”

“What, like, the pressure? Do you want to take something?”

“Want a distraction,” Harry says, sucking a wet kiss to Louis’ nipple. 

“Yeah? You want me to distract you?” Louis asks, and when Harry nods, Louis shifts sideways, rolling Harry onto his back and stretching out on top of him. It’s convenient, going to bed naked. 

With as often as they’re outside in the sun, they both have chapped lips and Louis is considering buying a case of Strawberry Chapstick because he knows it’ll always remind him of this summer and this trip. Harry tastes of artificial fruit flavoring and minty toothpaste and Lemon Lime Gatorade and it should be a disgusting combination, but Louis kisses him deeper, tracing Harry’s lips with his tongue. He trails kisses across Harry’s cheek, over his patchy beard, and sucks lightly at the spot below his ear that makes him whine and spread his legs so that Louis can settle between them. 

Resting his weight on one arm, Louis cradles Harry’s jaw, and brings their lips together again. Discovering Harry’s body, learning his sensitive spots, the things he likes, the noises he makes, has become his favorite pastime. He thumbs at Harry’s nipple, scratching it with his nail, and Harry goes from gently caressing his back to possessively grabbing his ass so fast it would be amusing if Louis wasn’t so obsessed with Harry’s touch. 

When he pinches Harry’s nipple, Harry grinds against him, and when he ducks down to take Harry’s nipple between his lips, Louis can feel his cock growing harder, pulsing as he sucks and bites and switches to the other side. 

Circling his hips, Louis’ dick rubs against Harry’s, and he huffs a quiet laugh against Harry’s neck, thinking of their overgrown pubes and the mess they’re bound to be left with if they come like this. 

The air conditioner kicks on, blowing across Louis’ back, giving him goosebumps. Harry squeezes the muscles of Louis’ ass, pulling his cheeks apart, and tracing his fingertips along his crack. It makes Louis wish for lube, but even if they had some, there’s not enough space in the camper for Harry to fuck him the way Louis wants it. That’ll have to wait until they’re home, in a proper bed, where he can get on his hands and knees and hold onto his headboard while Harry dicks in hard and deep. 

“Lou…” Harry lays his palms flat on Louis’ lower back, holding him tight, increasing the pressure on their cocks, and bucking against him. 

“Want me to blow you?” Louis asks, nipping at Harry’s earlobe and sucking it between his teeth. 

Harry shakes his head. “In the fridge…”

Lifting up, Louis looks down at him, confused. Harry reaches his arm out, so Louis moves off of him, rolling onto his side, and Harry hops off the bed. He opens the fridge, but before Louis can ask, Harry holds his hand up triumphantly, grinning proudly, waving a bottle of lube in the air. 

“Bought it the other day,” Harry says, climbing back in the bed to lay facing Louis.

“That’s going to be freezing,” Louis says, watching him open the bottle and squeeze it into his hand. “Who keeps lube in the fridge?”

Shrugging, Harry snaps the lid closed, and strokes himself quickly, hissing as he slicks himself up. “Thought it’d be too hot otherwise. Like, it wouldn’t be good to keep it—”

Rolling thunder makes them both jump, and Louis giggles, gasping when Harry wraps his fingers around him, though the lube has to be warmer than when Harry first touched himself. Scooting closer, Harry fits both of their dicks in his hand, and Louis groans. Their body heat, the cool air, the cold lube, and the tight circle of Harry’s fist have Louis unable to think. He thrusts into Harry’s hand, bending his neck to watch, enthralled by the sight of Harry jerking them both off. 

“So good, baby,” Louis mutters, meeting Harry’s open mouth with tongue and teeth. He runs his hand up Harry’s side and over his chest, pinching his nipple, and rocking against him, ready to come, but trying to hold off until Harry does.

It doesn’t take much longer before Harry’s orgasm hits, and he spurts over his fingers, onto the sheets and both of their stomachs. He throws his head back, biting down on his lower lip, speeding up his strokes until Louis comes, hips stuttering as his release joins Harry’s, making an even bigger mess between them. 

Louis falls onto his back, chest heaving while he tries to catch his breath. He laughs, poking Harry in the arm. “Refrigerated lube.”

“It said not to expose it to direct heat, and like, I don’t know, but it’s been hot as fuck,” Harry says, finding the bottle in the sheets and holding it up. “What if you get used to cold lube and we have to store it in the fridge? What would Niall think?”

Ignoring Harry’s questions, Louis smiles and says, “We’re going to live together.”

“Yeah,” Harry whispers. “I… I’m excited.”

“Me, too,” Louis says, watching as Harry carefully gets out of bed. They try their best to clean up, though all they can do is throw a towel over the wet spot, and then they get back in bed. Both of them lay on their stomachs, watching out the little window as the tail end of the storm passes by.

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

The next day is Monday, and the start of their eleventh week, putting them officially two-thirds of the way through their trip. They hike all morning, and after lunch, they hike to the top of the mesa—the highest point in the state—and back. 

“Okay, you guys,” Harry says, uncontrollably grinning and bouncing on his toes. “We’re near Carrizo Creek, and this is the coolest thing, I think, that we’ve had the opportunity to see so far.”

“What about the dunes?” Louis asks, and Harry rolls his eyes.

Hands on his hips, Harry says, “Dinosaurs, Lou!”

“Just saying,” Louis says, blowing him a kiss from behind the camera, and laughing when Harry freezes like he doesn’t know how to react. 

Harry clears his throat, holding his arms wide. “Right behind me, there are actual dinosaur tracks. Foot prints!”

“We’re not at Jurassic Park,” Louis says, walking closer.

“No, these are very old. They’ve been preserved in sandstone for millions of years,” Harry says, pointing to the water filled tracks in the stone. “It stormed last night, so the details of the tracks aren’t visible. But look how big they are!”

“Massive,” Louis says, zooming in on one of the deeper footprints. “Could fit my feet  _ and  _ your feet in one of those at the same time, Harold.”

“It’s so weird to think of dinosaurs in Oklahoma.” Harry taps the toe of his boot against Louis’ and says, “If we could time travel, we could be standing in front of a Tyrannosaurus rex.”

“My favorite,” Louis says. “Scientists say these are theropod tracks, and a T-Rex is one of those, but there’s no guarantee what time traveling Louis and Harry would be face to face with.”

“I suppose,” Harry says, pouting a little.

“Are you disappointed for our time traveling alter-egos?” 

“A little,” Harry admits. “Ready to head back?”

“Yeah,” Louis says, turning off the camera.

They stay for a few more minutes, and then start back to the campsite. 

For the first time on the trip, they stay up late. One of the draws of Black Mesa when they were choosing parks, aside from the dinosaur tracks, was the promise of stargazing. There’s so little light pollution in the area that the night sky is exceptionally dark, and they’re hoping to get some cool photographs using the tripod. 

“Remember that one custom camper we looked at that had like a six month waitlist?” Louis asks, watching while Harry sets up the tripod. 

“Yeah, that one didn’t have A/C,” Harry says, wiggling the tripod a little. It looks steady enough, so Louis hands him the camera. 

“No air conditioning, but it had the reinforced roof with that cool tent,” Louis says, trying to remember anything else about that particular camper. “Would be nice to have tonight. Climb up on the roof and look at the stars.”

“Are you saying you don’t like my picnic table and sleeping bag set up?” Harry asks. 

“No, just that if we were in a tent on top of the camper, we could sleep under the stars,” Louis says, looking up at the sky. He climbs up on the picnic table and lays back, waiting for Harry. It’s amazing that they're able to see the Milky Way right there above them without a telescope. 

Harry takes a few test shots with the camera remote, checking that it works, and lays down next to him, sighing quietly. “That camper was even smaller than this one.”

“True,” Louis says, taking Harry’s hand. “I think, if I ever took another trip in a camper, I’d want it to be separate from the truck. And a little bit bigger.”

“With a bathroom,” Harry adds.

“Thought that was something you didn’t want to deal with?”

“Yeah, but I’ve watched some people at the dump stations when we’ve emptied our grey water tank, and it doesn’t seem that hard,” Harry says, and he shrugs, shoulder rubbing against Louis’ arm. “Plus, I hate wearing flip flops in the shower.”

“Would you take another trip like this?” Louis asks.

“With you? Yeah.” Harry squeezes Louis’ hand. “Not, like, right away. We could probably rent an RV next year, maybe. We’ll have vacation time.”

Louis sits up a little, resting on his elbows. “I’ve been looking for another job.”

“Why?” Harry asks, frowning up at him. 

“I’d rather be with you and work someplace else,” Louis says, tipping his head back. Because of the full moon, the stars aren’t as bright or as plentiful as they are during a new moon or even a quarter moon, but the moon is gorgeous enough on its own. “Did you know they call this the Sturgeon Moon? I looked it up.”

“Sturgeon? Like the fish?” Harry asks, sitting up. “Don’t change the subject. I can’t believe you’re going to quit. You love your job.”

“I like it there, yeah, but I—” Louis swallows hard, and says, “Like I said, I’d rather have you.”

Harry leans over and kisses him softly, laying back down beside him, and says, “Wonder if we’ve applied for the same jobs.”

“Harold.”

“What?”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, but we shouldn’t both quit,” Harry says. Gasping, he points at the sky overhead. “Shooting star. Make a wish, Lou.”

Louis watches it until it burns out, then closes his eyes. “Maybe we should wait and see what happens.”

“Maybe we should steal the camper and never go home,” Harry says, and Louis laughs quietly, turning and pressing a kiss to Harry’s shoulder. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

When they pass Wichita Falls, Texas, Harry watches the exit sign, turning in his seat. “Louis, weren’t we supposed to—”

“Remember when we said we’d find new places to stay?” Louis asks, glancing over and hoping Harry doesn’t get mad. “I called Caddo Lake State Park and got a third night. Tonight.”

“That’s so far,” Harry whines, leaning his seat all the way back. “Four more hours?”

“Four and a half?” Louis reaches for his hand and Harry pinches his wrist. “I’ll drive it.”

“No, it’s fine. We’ll have a whole day to rest,” Harry says, kissing Louis’ wrist where he just pinched it. “I’ll take the last two hours.”

It’s almost eleven hours from Black Mesa State Park to the park they’re staying at in Texas, and by the time they arrive, it’s dinner time, they’re both cranky and tired. 

Sitting on Louis’ bum, while he massages Louis’ back, Harry asks, “You got us a place to stay in Florida, right?”

“Yes,” Louis says, groaning when Harry rubs the knot beside his shoulder blade. 

“Sexy.”

“Not sexy. It hurts,” Louis complains, taking a deep breath and exhaling when Harry presses on the muscle again. 

“Okay, well, I got a place in Savannah, so we’re set,” Harry says, falling to the mattress beside him. “No more super long drives. I’m sleeping late tomorrow.”

“We’ll see,” Louis says, cuddling up to Harry’s back. 

They both sleep late. And they don’t do much at all at Caddo Lake. It carries over through the weekend and into the next week. Louis feels like he’s going through the motions, following a checklist of things they have to do at Lake Fausse Point State Park in Louisiana and Natchez State Park in Mississippi. 

In fact, the brightest spot is when they go to bed on their last night in Mississippi and Harry plugs in his phone, turning to Louis with his big green eyes. “We’ve been together for a month.”

“Yeah?” Louis asks. He knew it was Monday and the start of their twelfth week on the road, but he was counting the time since they made things official by weeks, marking them off in his head every Friday. “Happy one month anniversary, baby.”

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

It rains for most of the drive from Mississippi to Crater of Diamonds State Park in Arkansas, not enough to make driving difficult, but enough that as soon as they hook up the camper, they climb inside. 

When they wake up Wednesday morning, they head for the trails. All three combined are less than three miles total, but they take their time, enjoying the quiet of the early morning. The big draw of this park is, of course, the diamond mine, which makes Louis think of hacking away at rocks in a cave with a pickaxe, but in actuality, is a thirty-seven acre plowed field. 

“Harold and I have decided to make this a competition,” Louis says, using his shovel to point at the field behind him. “This may look like a field, but it's really a volcanic crater that’s been eroded over time and that’s why so many gemstones have been found here. When we got here yesterday, it was raining, which was disappointing until we were told that the rain does a lot of the work for you. It washes away some of the loose dirt and can make it easier to search.”

Harry turns the camera around, and says, “People have found all sorts of cool rocks and minerals here, not just diamonds, and whatever you find, you get to keep.”

Even though it’s fairly early, there’s no shade, and it’s hot and humid, so neither of them want to stay at the mine all day. They walk between the rows, picking up interesting rocks and tossing them into buckets until they each have what seems like enough to search through. On the edge of the field are what they call sluice pavilions, which are troughs of water lined up under roofed shelters, so while they work, they’re in shade, and they’re able to set up a camera beside them.

“So, we’re sifting the sand and stuff off with these screens,” Harry says to the camera, lifting his out of the water and giving it a shake. “Everything is dirty, obviously, and since it rained last night and it's so hot, there’s some caked on mud too.”

“This is gross,” Louis says, looking down at the muddy water. He can’t even make out his own hands beneath the surface. 

They finish rinsing everything, and take it over to a table to dump it out and see what they’ve got. An hour of searching and cleaning and neither of them find anything of note, so it’s back to the field. If they hadn't made it a competition, Louis is pretty sure they would’ve called it a day already, but they go back and forth from the field to the sluice pavilion until long past lunchtime. 

“Last time, guys,” Louis says to the camera, swishing his screen in the water. “We’re tired and there’s a water park.”

“Even if we don’t find any gemstones, I want to keep the Agate ’cause it’s like, the exact same blue as your eyes,” Harry says, and Louis has to set his screen down and walk away for a moment. “Shit.”

“Yeah,” Louis says, coming back to the trough and leaning in front of the camera. “Sorry, Niall. Please edit Harold’s sappiness out, and also this part: I found a green one I was planning to give you, so I’m apparently just as bad.”

“Oh… Honey,” Harry says, blowing Louis a kiss.

Louis squeezes his eyes shut and tips his head back, pressing his lips together, but none of that stops his smile. “Honey?”

“Trying it out, ’cause you’re so sweet to me,” Harry explains.

“Oh my god, Harold,” Louis says. “Niall’s going to murder us.”

Harry pouts. “Do you not like it?”

“It’s cute as hell,” Louis says, and then, because Niall has to edit it all out anyway, he adds, “And so are you.”

They take their time going through the last two piles of rocks, sorting by color, and moving anything slightly promising to a separate pile. 

“Ooh… I found something,” Louis says, hiding it under his hand when Harry tries to peek. “Eyes to yourself, Harold.”

“Fine. I won’t show you what I found either,” Harry says, taking off his hat and setting it over his little pile on the table. 

They set a time limit, so when Louis’ phone alarm goes off, the search is over.

Standing to either side of Stephanie, the park ranger who walked them around the field earlier that morning, they take turns showing her and the camera what they found.

“I’m not sure what any of these are,” Louis says, poking at the little stones in his palm. “I think this green one is an Agate, and the reddish-orange is Jasper, but this one I’m hoping is Amethyst.”

“It is,” Stephanie says, plucking the small purple stone from his hand. “And you’re right about the others as well. Good finds.”

She drops the Amethyst back into Louis’ hand and he picks it up between his thumb and forefinger, and holds it out. “Harold, this one’s for you.”

“Lou, you’re supposed to keep—”

“It’s your birthstone,” Louis says, “Come on. Take it.”

“Thanks,” Harry whispers, letting Louis drop it into his empty palm. 

Harry’s other hand is full of stones, most of which he correctly identifies, including the blue Agate. He holds his last tiny, brownish-red stone up for Stephanie to see, and says, “And this is a Garnet.”

She carefully takes the stone, holding it up so the sunlight shines on it, squinting, and finally pulling a toothbrush out of her toolbelt. After scrubbing it gently with a little clean water, she gives it back to Harry, and says, “Congratulations, you found a diamond, Harry.”

“No way,” Harry says. “For real?”

“It does happen,” she says. “Most of the diamonds found here are yellow, but brown ones are pretty common too.”

“Does this mean I won our little competition?” Harry asks, raising his eyebrows. 

“Yes, Harold,” Louis says, holding his two little rocks out for the camera. “Diamond beats Amethyst, I think.”

“Double congratulations, then, Harry,” Stephanie says, clapping him on the shoulder. “Good job, guys.”

“Thanks, Stephanie,” Louis says, after Harry shakes her hand for the third time. 

They clean up the mess they made and collect the tools they borrowed so they can return them, and Louis slips his two stones into the tiny front pocket of his backpack for safe keeping. 

“Can’t believe you found a diamond,” Louis says, nudging Harry with his elbow. 

“I know! And I can’t believe I misidentified it,” Harry says, shaking his head and looking down at the diamond still in his hand. He grabs Louis’ wrist, lifts his hand and carefully places the diamond in it. 

“Harold, you can’t—”

“Just did,” Harry says.

“Harry, I—”

“Can’t make me take it back, Lewis. It’s a gift.”

“You can’t just give me a diamond,” Louis insists. 

“Why not?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Okay,” Harry says, smirking at him. “Let’s go to the water park.”

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

It’s less like a typical state park and more like a summer vacation, spending the rest of the day on the waterslides and in the pool. Louis pretends the whole diamond exchange never happened until that night, when they’re back at the camper after eating dinner and showering, and Harry pulls out the Amethyst Louis found.

Lying on his back on the bed, looking up at the stone, Harry asks, “Do you think, ’cause we spend so much time together, it’s different than regular dating?” 

“Yeah, probably,” Louis says, thinking of the little brown diamond stashed in the cabinet over the dinette table. “Twenty-four hours a day, and more than a month… That’s like, probably four to six months of dating for regular people.”

“Regular people,” Harry repeats, rolling over and slipping the Amethyst into the little velvet pouch they gave him at the park’s Diamond Discovery Center. He places it on the ledge beside his phone, and crawls over top of Louis, kissing him once before making himself comfortable on his chest. “You’re not regular people. You're, like, the opposite.”

“Calling me irregular, Harold?”

“Calling you… I don’t know. Special,” Harry says, kissing the hollow of Louis’ throat. “Wonderful? I, um… I…” Wiggling down Louis’ body, he darts his tongue out, licking Louis’ nipple. “Everything about you is… everything.”

Louis gasps when Harry blows cool air over his nipple, tracing circles around it, while sucking the other one into his mouth. 

“Let me blow you, baby,” Louis says, arching into Harry's touch. 

“But I was trying to—”

“Please,” Louis says, giving Harry his most exaggerated pout. 

Harry huffs and blows a raspberry on Louis’ stomach. “Because you’re polite, yes. You can have my dick in your mouth.”

Snickering as he rolls over on top of Harry, Louis kisses him until they both stop laughing and the camper is filled with the sound of bitten off moans and quiet whines. Crouched between Harry's legs, Louis takes him into his mouth, getting him hard and bringing him right to the edge. He stops, pulling off and kissing Harry's inner thighs. When those kisses aren’t enough, and Harry holds him in place, he sucks and bites the sensitive skin, leaving marks that his shorts will cover. Keeping his fingers wrapped around the base of Harry’s cock, Louis strokes him as slowly as he can. 

Harry lifts his hips, and Louis’ mind goes to the lube in the fridge. He’s desperate to get his fingers in Harry, to tease him and play with him, but he knows himself and he knows he won’t want to stop there. A tiny camper bed isn’t the place to make love to Harry, especially with how loud he expects Harry to be. He’s already got a pillow over his face and Louis is just rubbing his beard against his soft inner thighs. 

“Lou?” 

“Yeah, baby,” Louis says, lifting Harry's balls and licking behind them. 

“Can you… Will you…” Harry hides behind the pillow again, and Louis frowns, sitting up. 

“Talk to me,” Louis says softly. 

“I’m trying,” Harry says from under the pillow. “I want, like… Would you fuck my thighs? It’s weird, isn’t it? Never mind.”

“Not weird. Hot,” Louis says, bending down to suck another kiss to the top of his thigh. “Love your thighs.”

Quickly sitting up, Louis opens the fridge to find the lube, rolling his eyes at himself. He does love Harry's thighs, but even saying that word out loud makes his stomach flip. He turns back, and Harry's staring at him, jacking off until Louis shakes his head. 

“On your side,” Louis says, and Harry rolls to face the back wall of the camper. 

The lube is ice cold, and Louis tries to warm it in his hands, but he’s impatient and hard, so he strokes himself a few times, then slips his hand between Harry's legs. Harry shivers, looking back at Louis over his shoulder, biting his lip when his eyes land on Louis’ cock. Hurrying, Louis adds more lube, and lays down behind Harry, kissing the back of his neck. He fits his dick between Harry’s thighs, and Harry crosses his ankles, flexing his muscles and pushing back against him. 

Louis stays still for a moment, adjusting to the pressure, and reaches around to get a hand on Harry. When Louis shifts backward, he tightens his fist, sliding it up to encircle the head of Harry’s cock, and on the downstroke, he thrusts forward. He keeps that rhythm, fucking into the space between Harry’s thighs and jerking Harry off, until Harry starts to tremble and whine like his orgasm is close. 

“Play with your nipples, baby,” Louis says, sucking a kiss to Harry’s shoulder, but being careful not to leave a mark. Harry untangles his hand from his own hair, and rubs his palm over his chest, pinching one nipple and then the other, pulling and twisting. 

Thumbing at the tip of Harry’s cock, Louis strokes him faster, fucking into the heat between his legs. Harry moves with him, rocking back and forward into his fist, and comes, spurting onto the sheets and Louis’ fingers. After he works Harry through his orgasm, Louis grips his hip roughly, slamming their bodies together. Harry flexes his muscles, and reaches down, slipping his fingers between his thighs and pushing against the underside of Louis’ cock. The sudden extra pressure tips him over the edge, and he comes, pulsing between Harry’s legs.

“Holy shit,” Louis says, panting against Harry’s shoulder blade. Uncrossing his ankles, Harry relaxes his legs, and Louis falls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “That’s my new favorite thing.”

“I’m such a mess,” Harry says, still lying on his side, facing the back wall of the camper. “I’m, like, afraid to move. There’s come everywhere. Like… everywhere.”

Giggling, Louis gets down off the bed, and washes his hands. He finds a towel and wets the corner, climbing back up and carefully wiping Harry’s legs. Harry rolls onto his back, and Louis does his best to get all of the come out of his pubes and off of his hands, but Harry’s right. It’s everywhere. 

“How’d you get it in your hair?” Louis asks.

“It’s in my hair?”

Louis nods, and crawls backwards off the bed. “Get down here. We’ll use the sink.”

They manage, though it takes some time and effort, to get themselves clean. The bed is another story. At least they have spare sheets and blankets from the dinette bed, and they need to do laundry anyway.

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

It’s another long drive from Arkansas to Meramec State Park in Missouri—seven and a half hours—but they spend most of their time there on the river in their kayak. The only cave they enter is Fisher Cave, and that’s on a lighted, guided tour. 

From Missouri, it’s on to Reelfoot Lake State Park in Tennessee, where they take a pontoon boat tour, and hike to the observatory tower at sunset the second day. Harry’s favorite thing about that park is seeing and getting video of four bald eagles. Louis’ favorite thing is Harry calling the Cypress trees ‘knee trees’ all weekend.

In his entire life, Louis never thought he’d be so excited to go to Kentucky, but he’s been waiting since their second week when they were in New York for Harry to see the moonbow at Cumberland Falls State Park. 

It’s midafternoon when they arrive, and after they hook up the camper, they walk around the interior of the park, with Louis doing everything he can to steer Harry away from the falls and the river. It’s the first resort park they’ve been to, and there are tennis courts and nice cabins, stables and a square dance pavilion, as well as a grocery store and laundry facilities. 

There’s plenty to investigate and keep Harry occupied until the sun goes down and Louis leads him to the overlook. 

“I didn’t think we’d come to the falls,” Harry says, leaning on the railing beside Louis. “Figured we’d do it tomorrow, since there’s no moon.”

“What?” Louis asks, looking up at the darkening sky.

“It’s a new moon tomorrow,” Harry says, pointing at the trees on the other side of the gorge. “There’ll be, like, a tiny sliver of moon tonight.”

“That can’t be right,” Louis says, frowning at the trees where the moon should appear.

“Yeah, Lou, remember the full moon in Oklahoma?” Harry asks, and Louis leans down, folding his arms on the railing and resting his head. That was exactly two weeks ago. 

“No wonder there’s nobody around,” Louis says, pushing off the railing and walking to the far side of the overlook deck. He laces his fingers together on top of his head, stomping a few times for good measure, though it doesn’t make him feel any better. When he turns around, Harry’s leaning back against the railing, watching him, brow furrowed and lips pressed together. 

“Are you angry at the moon?” Harry asks, and putting it like that makes it seem silly when it’s really not.

“No, I’m mad at myself, babe,” Louis says. “I’ve been waiting for this for two months.”

“For the moonbow?”

“You know about the moonbow?” Louis asks.

“Yeah,” Harry says slowly. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Sorry. This is stupid,” Louis says, walking over to a nearby bench and sitting down. He takes off his hat and combs his fingers through his hair. “When we were in New York, we were talking about the rainbow over the falls, and when I mentioned this park, you didn’t remember it. So…”

“Oh,” Harry says, joining him on the bench, and resting his head on Louis’ shoulder. “I looked it up that day. Forgot to tell you.”

“Did you know we’d miss the moonbow?” Louis asks quietly. 

“Yeah, I checked the moon phases, but I figured it’d be too difficult to reschedule and fit it in.”

“I got too excited. When I looked it up, I read ‘new moon’ and somehow my brain translated that to ‘full moon’ and I…” Louis sighs, kissing the top of Harry’s head. “Wanted it to be a surprise.”

“We weren't even together then," Harry says.

“I know,” Louis says, thankful for the missing moon when he feels his cheeks start to heat. "I just wanted you to see it."

“Lou, honey,” Harry whispers, lifting his head and facing him. “You really are a secret romantic.”

“I told you,” Louis says, then he points at the thin sliver of the waning crescent moon rising over the trees. “And I  _ am  _ actually mad at the moon.”

“Let’s go back to the camper,” Harry says, taking Louis’ hand and standing up, pulling him off the bench. “Dinner and showers and then I want to cuddle you so hard.”

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

In the morning, Louis feels a little better about missing the moonbow. They have a reservation for an all-day rafting trip, and plans to hike afterwards.

With as much kayaking as they’ve done, whitewater rafting shouldn’t be difficult. According to their guide, it’s a fairly easy trip downriver. Because it’s summer and they’re on a natural flow river, the water level is lower than in the spring or fall, with only a few Class III rapids. Of course, there are still safety precautions, and they start off with the guides giving them a rundown on wearing their helmets and life jackets, proper paddle use and how not to knock your own or someone else’s teeth out with the T-grip. 

The trip begins below the falls. They put the rafts into the water, climb in, tuck their feet as they were instructed to do, and paddle against the current to the bottom of Cumberland Falls. 

“We’re approaching the falls from the bottom, and they are loud!” Harry yells, and their river guide—nicknamed Elrond, though not, he insists, because of his waist length hair—laughs and tells them to paddle harder.

With only the three of them in the raft, they’re going to have to do twice the work to get over the rapids and down the river, but it’s a small price to pay to be able to record without worrying about other people in the boat. 

A light mist hits them first, but as they paddle closer, the drops of water get bigger until it’s like being caught in the rain. They get close enough to reach out and touch the roaring water as it falls, and then Elrond steers them away and they start down the river.

“That was so cool,” Harry says, eyes wide and somehow looking adorable in a life jacket, with a helmet on and a GoPro strapped to it. 

“Alright, guys, the first Class III rapid is coming up after the bend in the river,” Elrond says, and then calls out, “Left! Forward two!”

Louis, sitting on the left side of the boat, paddles forward two strokes, and Elrond steers them towards the river bend. 

“We’re going into this rapid left side first, so we can immediately go to the right around that big rock in the middle of the river,” Elrond says, pointing ahead with his paddle. “See it? It’s called Center Rock. Creative name, I know.” 

They ride with the current, and Elrond steers them slightly to the right, calling out for Louis to paddle hard up to the churning water. His side of the raft dips down, and cold river water washes over his legs and into the boat. 

As soon as they’re on the other side, Elrond yells, “Right! Forward three!” and Harry paddles hard. “Both sides! Forward three!” 

Between Center Rock and the river’s edge, the trees hang down, branches close enough to the water that they have to duck to avoid getting hit in the face. 

The Class I and II rapids aren’t nearly as rough, and they’re able to record and talk through them. Elrond tells them about the river, the history of the area, and about his experiences as a rafting guide. 

It’s a long trip down river, and about halfway, Elrond has them paddle off to the side where they have a picnic lunch. There’s a large, flat rock that juts out into the river, and Elrond leads the way, climbing up to the top and plunging into the river below. 

Louis goes after him, running to the end of the rock and jumping into the air. He tucks his knees to his chest, and cannonballs into the cold water. When Harry takes his turn, he runs and leaps, arms and legs pinwheeling until he hits the water and goes under. It’s hilarious to see and hopefully the video will turn out well.

Back in the raft, they start down the river again, but they don’t get to their second Class III rapid until the last mile. 

“Left side first again,” Elrond says, and Louis paddles as he’s instructed. 

The left side of the raft goes up over a rock, and down, dipping into the river, and as if in slow motion, Louis starts to fall backwards, with his feet still tucked under the side of the raft. He tries to sit back up, but with his paddle in his hands and nothing to grab onto, there’s no stopping him from going overboard. He untucks his feet so he doesn’t get dragged by the boat or wind up with a broken ankle. 

Harry reaches across the raft, grabbing for him, but he’s too late, and Louis sinks beneath the surface. Hitting the cold water is a shock, and he gasps reflexively, sucking in river water as he watches the raft float over top of him. Choking and sputtering, Louis breaks the surface. Elrond extends his paddle towards him, handle first, and Louis swims for it, grabbing the paddle while trying to catch his breath.

“Okay?” Elrond asks, and Louis nods, still coughing up water and unable to speak. 

When he pulls Louis to the side of the raft, Harry leans over, and hauls him back into the raft by the straps of his life jacket. He lands on top of Harry, chest heaving and finally able to breathe again. Rolling off of Harry, Louis scrambles to sit back up, and tuck his feet securely.

“Lou, oh my god,” Harry says, passing him his paddle. He seems to deflate then, dropping his head to his knees and sitting there quietly for a moment. When he straightens back up, he takes a deep breath, puffing out his cheeks and exhaling. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Scared the shit out of me, too,” Louis says, adjusting his life jacket. He laughs at himself, a nervous sort of cackle that comes out of nowhere, and Harry scowls at him.

“It’s not funny.”

“Sorry, Harold,” Louis says, leaning over to poke him in the leg. “I can’t laugh at myself? I’m the one that almost drowned.”

“Not fucking funny,” Harry says, clenching his jaw.

“Both sides! Forward three!” Elrond yells, and Louis is thankful for the interruption. 

Harry is virtually silent the rest of the trip down river. 

When they reach the take-out point, they paddle towards the shore with the rest of the rafts, and help Elrond pull the raft out of the water. Everyone is sent to stand off to the side and out of the way while the river guides work together to haul all of the rafts to the bus, strapping them to the top. It’s an old school bus, similar to the one they rode in after their tubing trip, and Louis already knows he’ll be sweaty and disgusting once they get back to the campground. 

“That was fun,” Louis says, undoing the strap to his helmet, and making sure the camera is off. 

“Sure,” Harry says, shading his eyes with his hand and watching the guides finish tying the rafts to the roof of the bus. 

“Are you mad at me, Harold?” Louis asks, but Harry shakes his head. 

Still, he’s quiet on the bus back to the park, and quiet as they ride their bikes back to the camper. Figuring he’ll talk when he’s ready, Louis lets him be. 

“I want to figure out this Instant Pot,” Harry says, speaking for the first time in hours. “It might take a while. If you want to, you could do the laundry.”

Louis knows a dismissal when he hears one, so he takes the heavy duffle bag of dirty clothes, the empty duffle bag for their clean clothes, and rides his bike to the laundry facilities. It’s the first time he’s had to deal with Harry being mad at him, and he doesn’t even know what he did. Clearly, he couldn’t help falling overboard, though maybe Harry thinks he did it on purpose. He should know by now that Louis makes jokes when he’s uncomfortable, but it’s possible that he didn’t realize how scared Louis was in the moment. And his laughing about it afterwards probably didn’t help matters. 

It takes a couple of hours to do all of the laundry, and he makes sure to neatly fold everything before putting it all into the other duffle bag, and riding back to the camper. The Instant Pot is on when he gets there, but Harry’s nowhere to be found, so Louis grabs his things and heads for the showers, hoping to bump into him there. 

While he washes, he thinks about what to say to Harry, if he should apologize or explain or if he should be honest and tell Harry that he’s being an asshole. Giving Louis the silent treatment and not telling him what he’s pissed about is really not cool. He works himself up, letting his anger intensify, and by the time he finishes his shower and gets dried off and dressed again, he’s good and pissed. 

Louis flings open the camper door, and Harry jumps, staring at him when he climbs inside. “You have absolutely no right to be angry with me, Harry. I don’t know what I did, but you—”

“I’m not!” Harry holds both hands up and takes a step towards him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t… I’m not mad at you at all. I’m sorry.”

“You’ve barely spoken to me ever since I fell out of the damn raft,” Louis says, narrowing his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, Lou, really,” Harry says, circling his arms around Louis' waist and resting his forehead on his shoulder. He holds him tighter, turning his head and burying his face in Louis’ neck. “You scared me, like, so bad. It was a million times worse than the cave.”

“Harold.” Louis drops his shower stuff on the floor, and wraps his arms around Harry’s neck. “I’m fine. I was fine, like, right away.”

“I know, but it still… I tried to catch you, and I couldn’t, and you just went under and then the boat went over you and it was fucking scary, okay?”

“I was there, babe,” Louis says, chuckling quietly as he pulls the collar of Harry’s shirt aside and kisses his shoulder.

“It’s not funny, Lou,” Harry says, letting him go and taking a step back. He holds his hand flat against his stomach, and takes a shaky breath. 

“I was scared, too, you know,” Louis admits, reaching for Harry’s hand and kissing his knuckles. “But it only lasted a few seconds, and then I was back in the boat.”

“I’m sorry you thought I was mad at you,” Harry says, hugging him again and swaying back and forth. “I think I was just overwhelmed. And I didn’t know what to say. Honestly thought I might burst into tears or something.”

“Baby,” Louis whispers, pressing kiss after kiss to Harry’s neck. 

They stand there for a while, holding each other, until Harry slides his hands down to Louis’ lower back and slips them under his shorts, cupping his ass. “Let me?”

“Let you what, Harold?” Louis asks, sucking beneath Harry’s jaw and smiling against his skin.

“Let me show you,” Harry says, kneading Louis’ muscles. “Let me fuck you.”

“We don’t have condoms, babe,” Louis reminds him. 

“In the fridge,” Harry says, and Louis laughs so hard he chokes and has to hold onto the wall for support. 

When he can stand up again without giggling, Louis strips out of his clothes and climbs onto the bed. “I don’t know how you plan to do this, Harold, but that condom better not be cold when you fuck me.”

Raising his eyebrows and nodding, Harry opens the fridge and pulls out a brand new package of condoms, tossing them onto the bed with the lube. “Are you going to ask?”

“No,” Louis says, rolling onto his stomach and wiggling his bum. “Nothing you do surprises me anymore.”

Harry gasps, and smacks Louis’ ass hard enough to sting. “Surprised?”

“Not really,” Louis says, spreading his legs so Harry can fit between them. 

“Well, turn back over so I can kiss you first,” Harry says, and as soon as Louis does, he lowers himself down, kissing him softly. 

Like every guy Louis has been with, Harry’s a little bit obsessed with his ass. It’s to be expected. It’s a nice ass. He seems to especially like palming it, like it’s a basketball or something, but Louis doesn’t mind. He did think, however, that the first time Harry got the opportunity to fuck him, he’d be a little more aggressive about it.

Instead, he kisses Louis slowly, sucking on his tongue, trailing his lips over Louis’ skin and completely ignoring every part of him below the waist until Louis is hard enough to rut against him in the hopes that he’ll remember what they’re supposed to be doing. 

“Come on, baby,” Louis says, trying to roll over with Harry on top of him. 

“Nope.” Harry scoots down, kissing Louis’ belly button. He sits up, and grabs a pillow, tapping Louis’ leg until he lifts his hips. When he wets his fingers with lube, he smiles proudly, and says, “It’s warmer now.”

“Oh,” Louis says, biting down on his lip when Harry swipes his finger over his rim. It’s still cool enough that it gives him goosebumps. 

Harry does it again, circling his fingertip around and around until Louis pushes against it, and then he smirks, leaning down to kiss him again while he works one finger inside. He gives Louis a few seconds to adjust before he pumps his finger in and out, fucking him with it while sucking on Louis’ neck and chest and finally his nipples. He plays with them until they’re hard, biting down when he finds Louis’ prostate and Louis arches up beneath him. Harry’s almost as obsessed with Louis’ nipples as he is with his ass, and while they’ve always been sensitive, no one’s ever paid this much attention to them before. 

Teasing Louis with the tip of his middle finger, Harry kisses over Louis’ ribs, pulling back and pushing in with two. He nuzzles Louis’ side until Louis gets the hint and lifts his arm out of the way, and then he drags his nose over Louis’ armpit, making him giggle uncontrollably. When he rubs the pads of his fingers against his prostate, Louis’ giggles turn into a whine, and Harry grins so big, Louis can feel it. He huffs, frustrated. 

“Fuck me, babe,” Louis says, though he’s pretty sure Harry isn’t going to do as he’s told.

“Letting the condom warm up,” Harry says, winking at him. He scissors his fingers, as if he could tell that Louis was trying to think of a smartass comment, and Louis groans. Before he can ask for it, Harry fits his ring finger in, twisting his wrist as soon as Louis’ muscles relax again. 

He can tell how loose and open he is from three of Harry’s fingers, but Harry takes his cock into his mouth and Louis feels his body open up for more. Harry works his pinky in alongside the other three, licking the tip of Louis’ dick, and Louis sucks in a breath through his teeth. Pulling his legs up and gripping the backs of knees, Louis shamelessly rides Harry’s hand, while Harry spreads his fingers, pulling off of his dick to stare at him with his mouth hanging open. 

“I…” Harry’s eyes dart from Louis’ face to his ass and he groans, slipping his fingers free. “I, um…”

“Condom, baby,” Louis reminds him, and Harry nods convulsively, wiping his hands on his shirt. “Also, maybe take your clothes off.”

Harry nods again, yanking his shirt over his head and throwing it on the floor. He falls to the side, kicking his shorts and boxers off, and gets back on his knees between Louis’ legs, hunching over so he doesn’t hit his head on the ceiling. 

“Ready, Lou?” Harry asks, after he tears open the condom and rolls it on, slicking himself up with more lube. When Louis nods, Harry falls forward, kissing him again, and moaning into his mouth when Louis wraps his legs around him. 

Breaking their kiss, Harry rests his forehead against Louis’ and Louis reaches up to tuck his hair behind his ears, pulling him into one more quick kiss before he drops his legs from Harry’s waist and lets him sit back up. Lower lip caught between his teeth, Harry rubs the backs of Louis’ legs, and moves closer, bending down to kiss his inner thigh. Louis exhales a happy sigh, and grabs behind his knees again, holding himself open for Harry.

The first press of Harry’s cock against his rim makes all of Louis’ muscles tense, and they both still, breathing in sync until Louis relaxes again, smiling up at him. 

“It’s been a while,” Louis says, as if Harry’s not aware that he hasn’t been fucked in months. They’re coming up on three months since they left DC. Though, he really hasn’t been fucked in… “Jesus.”

Cringing and freezing in place with the fat head of his dick just past the tight ring of muscle, Harry whispers, “Sorry.”

“No, it’s… Give me a second,” Louis says, pushing back against him. “Just go slow.”

Harry nods, shifting his hips and Louis’ body allows the intrusion. Needing a distraction, Louis strokes himself, trying to keep his erection while Harry gradually fills him with his cock. About halfway in, Harry stops and finds the lube in the sheets, pulling out and leaving Louis empty. He slides two fingers back inside, pumping them in and out and adding lube until the wet sound of it makes Louis blush and he folds his arms over his face. 

“Want it to be good, honey,” Harry says, rubbing circles over his prostate and jerking him off until he’s fully erect and spreading his legs for more. 

Harry smears more lube over the condom, and this time he keeps his hand around Louis’ dick, squeezing the base while he pushes inside. Once he’s taken all of Harry’s cock, the stinging and burning subside, turning into a stretching pressure that morphs into pleasure when Harry begins to move. 

“God, baby,” Louis says, wrapping his arms and legs around Harry while he fucks him so slowly that he can barely think. 

With the low ceiling preventing him from sitting up straight, Harry stays curled over top of him, one hand clutching Louis’ shoulder, the other holding tight to Louis’ thigh, so that even if he wanted to, Louis couldn’t move. Harry gets so deep inside, circling his hips, and brushing against Louis’ prostate, that Louis can do nothing but take it, trembling underneath him. He lifts his chin, and Harry dips down, kissing him sweetly, taking the time to gently suck on Louis’ lips, cupping his jaw with his hand, and nudging their noses together. 

“It’s good?” Harry asks, brow furrowed in concentration. 

“Yeah,” Louis says, reaching up to rub his thumb over the crease between Harry’s eyebrows. “You can go faster.”

Harry shakes his head. “Can’t. I’ll come. And the camper’ll rock.”

“If this camper’s a’rockin’,” Louis says, laughing quietly. 

“Oh my god, Lou,” Harry says, dicking in deep. “Don’t laugh. You’re already so tight I can hardly move.”

“Don’t come a’knockin’,” Louis says, giggling until Harry covers his mouth with his hand and fucks him hard and fast a few times. 

“Stop,” Harry says, frowning down at him. He uncovers Louis’ mouth and kisses his cheek, whispering in his ear, “Just let me… Let me adore you.”

“Baby,” Louis says, and when Harry lifts up to look at him, Louis kisses the tip of his nose. “Less talking, more fucking.” 

Narrowing his eyes, Harry reaches between their bodies and pulls out. Louis gasps. 

“On your stomach,” Harry says, and Louis rolls over, spreading his legs. “Legs together.”

Looking back over his shoulder, Louis brings his legs together, and Harry cages him in on his hands and knees. He slides the head of his cock up and down Louis’ crack until it catches on his rim, and then he pushes inside, not stopping until his chest is pressed against Louis’ back. Harry fucks him leisurely, like he could do it for hours and not get tired, and Louis thinks he might try it. 

“You have little scars,” Harry whispers, kissing Louis’ shoulder blades. “Or, like, maybe it’s just that the rest of you is tan.”

“What are—” Louis grunts, lifting his hips as much as he can. “What are you talking about?”

Harry stops moving and kisses Louis’ other shoulder blade. “From the sand. Remember? It’s healed, but the skin is pink.”

“Oh,” Louis says, still trying to fuck back onto Harry’s cock. 

Gripping Louis’ shoulders, Harry grinds against him, thrusting in and out slowly, and holding Louis still. He keeps his steady pace as Louis’ orgasm starts to build, heat swirling in his stomach from the constant friction and pressure against his prostate. Harry’s must be closing in as well, because he finally speeds up a little, panting against the back of Louis’ neck.

“Shit, Lou,” Harry mutters, biting down on Louis’ shoulder, and slamming into him. Unable to get a hand around himself, Louis fucks against the mattress, chasing his release until Harry pulls out and he can finally roll onto his back. Before he can touch himself, Harry takes him into his mouth, sucking him down and sliding two fingers between his cheeks. He drives them in roughly, jabbing at his prostate, and Louis comes, back arching off the bed. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Harry,” Louis says when he can talk again. 

“I’m really glad you didn’t get hurt today,” Harry says, and Louis groans, but he’s smiling. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fic post](https://kingsofeverything.tumblr.com/post/630877050004209664/by-kingsofeverything-with-fantastic-art-by)


	6. Chapter 6

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

When they arrive at Tallulah Gorge State Park in Georgia on Wednesday, Louis is still sore from the previous night, so they don’t ride their bikes around the park or hike or do anything, really. They nap, and Harry apologizes for fucking him, which makes Louis laugh so hard he gets a cramp in his side, and Harry apologizes for that as well. Louis wrestles him onto his back and threatens to smother him with a pillow until he agrees to fuck him harder next time. 

“I don’t see how that’s an apology, but whatever you want, Lewis,” Harry says, muffled voice coming through the pillow.

Eventually, they leave the camper. Harry takes a picture of them from the middle of the two hundred foot suspension bridge, and then they hike to the bottom of the gorge where he takes another one. 

On Friday, they drive from Georgia to Cheaha State Park in Alabama, and when they get there they celebrate six weeks together as a couple. Quietly. And without rocking the camper.

The drive from Alabama to their next park in Florida is long, and the overnight stop Louis arranged is still eight hours away, with another four and a half hour drive the next day to get to their destination. 

“Why’d we leave so late?” Harry asks, whining and covering his face with his hat.

“Okay, so… I didn’t want to worry you or freak you out—”

“Are we sleeping at a rest stop?” Harry asks.

“No, we’re sleeping at Niall’s friend Bressie’s house.”

“What?” Harry sits up and hits Louis with his hat. 

“It’s cool, I swear!”

“Lewis.”

“I called Niall and he suggested it. Bressie’s a cool guy. He’s stayed with me and Niall a few times.”

“Oh,” Harry says, taking his hat back and rubbing Louis’ arm. “I didn’t realize you knew him.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Promise,” Louis says, snatching Harry’s hat and throwing it in the back seat. “He’s got a nice guest room, according to Niall. I just didn’t want to get there too early. This way, we can get, like, McDonald’s for dinner and he won’t feel obligated to feed us or anything. And then I figured we’d leave really early. Get out of his hair.”

Harry leans over and kisses Louis’ earlobe, and then climbs into the back seat and lays down. “I’m very lucky you’re my boyfriend.”

“What makes you say that?” Louis asks, looking in the rearview mirror. He can’t see Harry, but maybe Harry can see him.

“You’re just nice. You’re kind and thoughtful and also very hot, which is like, a bonus,” Harry says, reaching up and rubbing Louis’ shoulder. “Plus, you’re good in the sack.”

“Harold, you have no idea,” Louis says, squeezing his hand. 

Bressie welcomes them with open arms and beers in each hand—the first drop of alcohol either of them have had in months. It makes Louis even more tired than he already was, and after they take turns in the shower, they go to bed, alarm set for six o’clock so they can get on the road again.

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

“I’ll drive, Lou,” Harry says, yawning and stretching his arms overhead. 

“You take the last half,” Louis says, spinning the key ring around his finger. “Get some more sleep. You tossed and turned last night.”

“I did?” Harry climbs into the passenger seat and leans it back, falling asleep before they get to the interstate. 

Louis feels a little guilty for lying, but hopefully Harry will forgive him for it. He already owes Niall and Bressie each a favor, but no matter what, it’ll be worth it to see the look on Harry’s face. 

He keeps the radio on and drives extra carefully so that Harry doesn’t wake up before he wants him to, taking each turn slowly, and easing on and off the brakes and gas. After he pays for parking, he follows the line of cars and pulls into the spot the attendants guide him to. 

“Harold,” Louis whispers, tugging on his little ponytail. “Wake up, babe.”

Harry squeezes his eyes closed and asks, “Time for me to drive?”

“Yeah,” Louis says, turning to hide his smile and climb out of the truck. “Let’s go. Haven’t got all day.”

He closes the door and walks to the back of the camper, but he only has to wait a few seconds before Harry squeals and slams the truck door, running around to meet him.

“Did you plan this?” Harry asks, grabbing Louis’ hands and jumping up and down.

“Of course I planned it,” Louis says, rolling his eyes fondly. “When we were in Bend, I called Niall, he called Bressie, and I bought the tickets.”

“Wow,” Harry says, swinging their arms between them and leaning in for a kiss. “You’re a tough act to beat, Tomlinson.”

“Why are you last naming me?” Louis asks, stepping back and unlocking the camper. “Jealous of my romancing skills?”

“That must be it,” Harry says, climbing inside the camper after him and pinching Louis’ ass.

“I got one day tickets for Magic Kingdom, ’cause I figured, if we’re doing one park, we do the original, right?” 

“Yes!” Harry makes a nonsensical noise and flails his arms. “This is the best surprise!”

“You’re so excited,” Louis says, fascinated by his reaction. “I love it.”

Before he can worry about his words, Harry kisses him again, quick and far too dirty for that early in the morning in a Disney World parking lot. He pulls back and whispers, “Thank you.”

“Welcome, Harold.” Louis kisses his cheek, and says, “We should hurry up with the sunscreen and stuff if we want to be near the front of the line.”

They get inside with the early crowd, and Louis immediately takes Harry’s hand and pulls him off to the side of the street to the Chapeau. 

“You want mouse ears?” Louis asks, and Harry grins.

“You want a pair?” Harry asks, looking at the displays of various hats and headbands. 

“Kind of want a snapback, if they have it. Something to shade my face,” Louis says, tapping the bill of his Blockbuster snapback. 

“Ooh, rainbow,” Harry says, holding up a red snapback with rainbow striped mouse ears, and a rainbow striped mouse logo embroidered on the front. “Do you think we can get the same one?”

“You don’t want the kind they embroider?” Louis asks, reaching for the red hat. 

“I mean, I do, but I want this, too,” Harry says, picking up one of the original black mouse ear hats. 

“Get both,” Louis says, picking one up for himself. “I want both. You should get what you want.”

“Louis, you have no idea what you’re saying,” Harry says, holding a hat in each hand. “I’ll spend my savings on souvenirs.”

“I don’t think we’ll be here long enough for that, babe,” Louis says, walking towards the embroidery counter. “What do you want yours to say? Harry or…”

“You pick,” Harry says, handing over his black mouse ear hat. 

“Okay, then you do mine,” Louis says, passing the other hat to him and shooing him off to the other side of the store. 

The hat takes only a moment to embroider, and Louis pays for it and his rainbow snapback, replacing the Blockbuster hat on his head. He waves Harry over and waits by the door for him to finish, and when he does, they step outside, wearing matching rainbow Mickey Mouse ear hats. 

“We look silly,” Harry says, though he’s smiling so big that Louis has to poke both of his dimples. 

“We look awesome,” Louis says, holding Harry’s black mouse ears out for him to take. “Mine better not say anything dumb.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Harry says, passing Louis’ hat to him. They both turn them around to look at the same time, and Louis lifts his snapback so he can lean in and kiss him. 

“I thought about ‘Harold’, but I don’t know, I like the way the H looks by itself,” Louis explains while Harry traces over the pink cursive capital H on the back of his hat. 

“Thanks, Lou,” Harry says, slipping it into his bag. “Do you like yours?”

“It’s perfect, baby,” Louis says, rubbing his thumb over the ‘Lou’ embroidered in golden thread. “No one else calls me that.”

“Can’t believe we’re wearing matching hats,” Harry says, tugging one of the ears on Louis’ hat. 

Laughing loudly, Louis starts towards Cinderella’s Castle, shaking his head. He’s got it bad. At least he caught himself before he said what he was thinking, because it’s far too soon to bring up matching rings. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

The first picture Harry takes of them together is in front of Cinderella’s Castle, and they do look a little bit ridiculous with their matching hats and cheesy grins, but Louis finds that he doesn’t care in the slightest. They head for the Haunted Mansion, and luckily they’re early enough that they don’t have to wait long. 

“Ooh… It’s like  _ The Picture of Dorian Gray,” _ Harry whispers when they first walk inside, watching the portrait over the mantel morph into an old man and then a skeleton.

When they’re ushered into the next room, Harry takes his hand, and Louis asks, “Have you been to Disney World before?”

“Once,” Harry says, “When I was a kid. I don’t really remember what—” 

The lights go out and Harry jumps. Louis leans in and kisses his shoulder. A moment later, they’re through the door to wait in line for the ride.

“Oh, I thought that was it,” Harry says, laughing quietly. 

When they take their seats, and the ride begins, Harry lets go of Louis’ hand and drapes his arm around his shoulder instead. 

“I remember this being a lot scarier,” Louis says, tipping his chin up and pursing his lips. 

“I— Oh,” Harry says, kissing him softly. “I don’t remember if I went on this ride.”

Once they finish at the Haunted Mansion, they wait for Pirates of the Caribbean, and Big Thunder Mountain Railroad, and after they’ve ridden those rides, it’s nearing lunchtime. 

“Kind of wish I’d gotten FastPass,” Louis says, after they eat and are twenty minutes into the wait for Peter Pan’s Flight. 

“It’s fine, babe,” Harry says, pushing Louis’ hat back and kissing his sweaty forehead. 

“You just kissed my sweat,” Louis says, wiping his face with his shirt. 

Harry shrugs, and says, “I’d do it again.”

“You—”

“Tinkerbell!” Harry points at the sparkling gold light. “Oh… I love her.”

“You can meet her.” The man in line in front of them, dressed head to toe in Tinkerbell merch, grins at them, and says, “She’s on Main Street at the Town Square Theater. I met her earlier.” 

“Oh, wow,” Harry says, squeezing Louis’ hand. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” the man says, moving ahead with the line. “I recognized you guys, but didn’t want to say anything at first. Couldn’t stop myself when you mentioned Tink. She’s my favorite.”

“You recognized us?” Louis asks, dropping Harry’s hand and crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Yeah, loved your Maine episode. I’m from Bangor,” he says, extending his hand. “Name’s Stephen.”

Harry shakes it. “I’m Harry.”

“Oh, I know,” Stephen says. He turns to Louis, and Louis feels obligated to shake his hand. “And you’re Louis.”

“Nice to meet you,” Louis says, even though it isn’t nice at all. 

After meeting Piper in Oregon, they haven’t met anyone else who recognized them, and it’s much more uncomfortable this time. It’s not as if they’re famous. They’re just two guys with a niche-interest YouTube series. And if this stop at Disney World was part of the show and not a day off date with his boyfriend, Louis probably wouldn’t be so bothered. As it is, he'd like to grab Harry's hand and drag him out of there. Obviously, he isn’t going to, but that doesn’t stop him from wanting to protect Harry and their relationship. 

“So…” Harry rocks back on his heels, holding his hands behind his back. “We’re not actually working and if you could—”

“Oh! Secret’s safe with me,” Stephen says, tipping his Tinkerbell hat. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Thanks,” Harry says, and Louis nods. 

It’s another half hour before they get on the ride, and Louis relaxes a little bit. He whispers in Harry’s ear, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Harry whispers back, taking his hand again. “That was weird. I don’t know how to, um… how to act.”

“Sorry I let go of your hand,” Louis says, lifting Harry’s hand and kissing his wrist. 

Shaking his head, Harry says, “Don’t apologize. I guess we should be more careful.”

Louis groans quietly, leaning his head back. 

He doesn't pay any attention to the ride, and it’s over in no time. Harry lets go of his hand, and they exit Peter Pan’s Flight.

“What do you want to do next?” Louis asks, checking the map on his phone. 

“Not sure,” Harry says, peeking over his shoulder. “We could try to meet Tinkerbell.”

“Okay, let’s do that, and we can figure out what else to do while we’re waiting,” Louis says, reaching out to rest his hand on Harry’s lower back when they start walking, and snatching his hand away when he notices what he’s doing. “I don’t like not touching you.”

Harry laughs and knocks their hips together. “I’ll let you touch me extra tonight.”

“Not the same.”

“I know, honey,” Harry says, and blows him a kiss. 

It’s a forty minute wait to meet Tinkerbell, and in the first thirty minutes, Louis touches Harry nine times without realizing it. Harry counts. Louis finally gives up and stuffs his hands in his pockets until it’s their turn. After taking pictures with Tinkerbell, and after Harry tells her how much he loves her, they wander around the Emporium, picking up some t-shirts, and a Tinkerbell mug. 

“You’re ready to leave, aren’t you?” Harry asks when they walk out of the shop. 

“Didn’t you want to ride Space Mountain?” Louis asks. 

Harry shakes his head. “Not really. I’d rather go ahead and get on the road. Key Largo is pretty far.”

“You sure?” Louis asks, looking back at Cinderella’s Castle. They didn’t go on nearly as many rides as he thought they would. 

“Yep,” Harry says, switching his bag of souvenirs to his other hand and slipping his arm around Louis’ waist. He presses a lingering kiss to Louis’ cheek. “Let’s go.”

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

It’s still light out when they get to Key Largo and the John Pennekamp Coral Reef State Park. Once they set up the camper and get the air conditioner going, they walk down to Cannon Beach. There’s not much to see of the sunset, since they’re facing east, but it’s quiet and they’re alone. 

Harry steps up behind him, wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist, resting his chin on Louis' shoulder, and Louis says, “I want to find another job." 

“Did you get any calls from the ones you applied for?” Harry asks, but Louis shakes his head. 

“I stopped looking after we talked about it, but I think… I mean, we’re almost done. Two weeks left,” Louis says, though Harry knows as well as he does. They’ve been counting every Monday since they left DC. 

“Yeah, but we have two more weeks after we get back,” Harry says, lips brushing the side of Louis’ neck.

“Shit,” Louis says, and takes a deep breath. “I have to tell you something. Fuck. You’re going to be pissed.”

Harry drops his arms from Louis’ waist and takes a step back. “What?”

“Okay, so…” Louis winces, remembering how impetuous his decision was, and how ashamed he felt about it afterwards. But as hard as he tries to get that across, it doesn’t seem to make a difference.

“You tried to ruin this trip,” Harry says, walking slowly backwards. 

“I was going to tell you, like, right when Zayn told us we were going anyway,” Louis says, starting to follow, but stopping when Harry holds a hand up. 

“You mean, after they’d already made the decision,” Harry says, taking another step away from him. 

“Yeah, but I didn’t know they’d decided! I was literally, like, getting up out of my chair to go tell Zayn,” Louis explains, reaching for Harry’s hand, but Harry shakes his head.

“I’m… I need to shower,” Harry says, turning around and striding towards the parking lot. “I need to be alone.”

Louis watches him go. 

The showers aren’t far from the camper, so Louis waits a few minutes to allow Harry to get his things before he goes back to the campsite. Since Harry has the keys, Louis sits on the picnic table, waiting for him, and trying to convince himself he hasn’t ruined everything. When Harry shows up, he nods at Louis, but doesn’t speak. After he unlocks the camper, Louis gets what he needs for the shower, figuring Harry isn’t going to talk to him, so he might as well disappear for a little while, and give Harry more time. 

Harry’s waiting for him, sitting on the dinette bench, tapping his fingertips on the table, and all Louis wants to do is smooth the line between his eyebrows. He sits across from him, and when Harry doesn’t say anything, Louis says, “I shouldn’t have done it. And I knew when I did it that I was being an asshole, but it was self-preservation, Harry. I’m not— I don’t mean to make excuses. I’m sorry. If I could take it back, I would.”

“I know,” Harry says quietly, not looking at him. 

“I should’ve told you, like, weeks ago. Months ago, even,” Louis says, reaching for him, but drawing his hand back, not wanting Harry to pull away. He folds his arms on the table top instead and leans in. “Are you— Are you breaking up with me?”

“No,” Harry says, finally meeting his eyes. “Lou, I’m mad at you, but not… I’m not  _ that  _ mad.”

Something lets go in Louis’ chest, and he holds his hand to his heart, taking a relieved breath. He covers his face, blinking fast to stop tears from gathering in his eyes. Harry combs his fingers through Louis’ wet hair, and Louis looks up, grabbing Harry’s hand.

“I’m so, so sorry, baby,” Louis says, rubbing his thumb over Harry’s knuckles. “I— I got so caught up in having fun with you that I forgot all about it.”

“Niall was looking out for me,” Harry says, taking Louis’ other hand.

“Niall knew I was being an idiot,” Louis says. He’s going to owe Niall another favor.

“When I was in the shower, I tried to come up with something else you could’ve done or said, but… I wouldn’t’ve let it be.” Pursing his lips, Harry tips his head side to side, and says, “If you’d’ve told me you changed your mind and didn’t want to go, I would’ve bothered you about it. I would’ve been mad if you didn’t give me a good enough reason. And I… I wouldn’t’ve wanted to do this with anyone else.”

“If it helps, I was trying not to have a crush on you. For like, a really long time,” Louis says, lifting Harry’s hands and slotting their fingers together. “And I knew that taking this trip with you would make it so much worse.”

“Are you saying you have a crush on me, Louis Tomlinson?” Harry asks, smirking at him and scrunching his nose. 

“Yes, but it’s very, very small. Tiny. Insignificant. Doesn’t mean anything,” Louis says, but when Harry raises his eyebrows, Louis tells him, “It means everything.”

Harry leans across the table to kiss him, and says, “I have a crush on you, too.”

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

In the morning, they go out on the glass bottom boat tour. It’s a nice introduction to the park and the coral reef, but it makes Louis wish they were already snorkeling, or even that they had time for scuba diving lessons. 

That afternoon, the snorkeling boat takes them out to the reef, and as soon as they get in the water, they see some really incredible fish. Louis has to stop himself from trying to talk to Harry too many times, but Harry seems to have the same problem, as they both look to each other whenever they come upon something new or interesting. 

While he knew they were snorkeling at a coral reef, for some reason, Louis wasn’t prepared for the number of tropical fish. Everywhere he looks is another fish he recognizes from  _ Finding Nemo, _ and he makes a mental note to email Doris and Ernest to tell them. 

When they first booked everything for Florida, they went with the four and a half hour snorkeling trip because they figured the more snorkeling the better. But by the time Louis pulls himself onto the boat that evening, he’s dead tired. Even Harry sitting beside him with a bare thigh pressed against his, dripping wet, panting and wearing nothing but his tiny pink shorts, barely registers. Though it does register. 

“I’m exhausted,” Harry says, pointing the camera at Louis. “Tell the people what we just did, Lou.”

“No,” Louis says, sticking his tongue out. “We snorkeled. We have video, and hopefully it’ll turn out alright. We saw a weird underwater statue of Jesus; I’m not sure how I feel about it. We saw a lot of those fish, you know the ones, like Dory. And the water’s more blue than I expected. I… I would say, if you want to come here and do this, maybe do the two hour trip.”

“Yeah, I agree,” Harry says, turning the camera around and holding it in front of them, scooting closer to Louis. “We had fun, but we’re also nearing the end of our trip. We’re actually at three months today, and it’s been nonstop. I mean, it’s been fun, but it’s tiring.”

“The last few places are like, more chill. More walking than hiking, I think,” Louis says, and remembering that they’ll have to kayak out to the park in North Carolina, he adds, “I hope.”

“Up to us, babe. Damn it. Sorry, Niall.” Harry passes him the camera and buries his face in his hands. “I did so well all day!”

Choking on a laugh, Louis turns off the camera, and says, “You were under water most of the day.”

Harry sighs. “I’m glad we’re almost done.”

“Me, too.” Louis looks around, and then whispers, “I don’t want to have to pretend for the camera anymore.”

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

As soon as they get back to the camper after their showers, Harry says, “I’ve been thinking.”

Louis stands completely still. Those three words haven’t always worked out well for him in the past. “About?”

“What if we can’t find new jobs right away?”

“Oh,” Louis says, kicking his flip flops off. 

“So… I know you don’t want to have to pretend for the camera anymore, but what if we need to pretend for a few weeks or months until one of us gets another job?” Harry asks, opening the fridge and passing Louis a Gatorade.

“I’ve had so much Gatorade this summer,” Louis says. Harry clears his throat, and Louis heaves a sigh. “I’ll do it. I won’t like it, but I actually think it’ll be easier at the office. Even if we were allowed to date, we wouldn’t be, like, holding hands during meetings. Part of what’s so hard is that we’re just doing, I don’t know, vacation type stuff.”

“Okay,” Harry says, pulling the leftover chicken wings out and setting them on the table. “That’ll take some of the pressure off, hopefully.”

“We’ll see,” Louis says, finding his phone and checking his email. “Would be nice if someone just gave us a bunch of money.”

Harry snorts and sits down across from him. “That’s not going to happen.”

“Anything can happen, Harold.”

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

“Are you going to cut your hair?” Harry asks, one hand on the wheel, one tangled in Louis’ long hair. 

“You called it a mullet.”

“That was weeks ago!” Harry combs his fingers through the back of Louis’ hair and scratches his scalp. “It’s so long and so soft. I love it.”

Harry loves his hair. And Harry loves his ass. Harry loves his voice and the way he walks and his hands and his thighs and his arms and his eyes and the crinkles in their corners and his nose and his lips and his ears and his ankles and his armpits, for fuck’s sake. Not that Louis isn’t completely in love with every bit of Harry, including his armpits, but he tries not to say it. It’s too close to saying how he really feels. 

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Louis asks, and when Harry shakes his head, Louis says, “Then I’m not telling you if I’m going to cut my hair.”

“Okay, but if I tell you, you’ll tell me?”

“Maybe,” Louis says, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

“Louis,” Harry whines, twirling his fingers in Louis’ hair. “I just want to touch it all the time.”

“What if I shave my head?

“Please don’t joke about that, honey,” Harry says, taking his eyes off the road for a second to frown at Louis. 

“I’m not going to shave it, but it’s too long. Gets in my eyes,” Louis says, demonstrating by shaking his hair so it’s in his face. 

“Easy solution, Lou.” Harry takes his bandana off and lays on Louis’ head like a crown, biting the corner of his lip. “Put it on. Bet you look hot in a headband.”

“Jesus Christ, okay,” Louis says, flipping the mirror open. It takes him a minute to put it on, and it’s a little loose, but it doesn’t look bad. “Your head is bigger than mine.”

“I know,” Harry says with an exaggerated wink. 

“Fuck off,” Louis says, laughing and putting his sunglasses back on. 

“I actually think you’re thicker, but I’m definitely longer,” Harry says, and Louis smacks his arm. 

“Stop thinking about my dick.”

Harry gasps, clutching his hand to his chest. “I was talking about your hair.”

“Sure you were,” Louis says, fiddling with his hair again. He closes the mirror, and asks, “It looks okay?”

“Looks good, babe,” Harry says, pulling a hair tie off his wrist and handing it to Louis. “Will you do mine?”

Louis gently combs the front of Harry’s hair back with his fingers, and wraps the hair tie around it, but it’s long enough now that the little ponytail lays down instead of standing straight up. “There you go, baby. Now tell me where we’re going.”

“You surprised me,” Harry says, reaching over and patting Louis’ thigh. “Let me surprise you. I mean, it’s not nearly as good as Disney, but—”

“Harold,” Louis says, “Don’t talk bad about my surprise.”

It’s another couple of hours before they get to Savannah, and Harry finally tells him where they’re going. Or rather, he pulls up in front of the inn where they’re staying so he can check them in and get the keys and parking pass. Louis waits in the car, Googling as fast as he can. 

“Harry, why are we staying at a haunted inn?” Louis asks the second Harry opens the truck door.

“We’re not in one of the haunted rooms,” Harry says, as if that makes it any better. “The haunted rooms are on the third floor. We’re on the second floor.”

“Harold.”

“Are you afraid of ghosts, Lewis? She’s supposed to be harmless.”

Louis huffs and rolls his shoulders back. “I’m not afraid. I don’t even believe in ghosts.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“If they say it’s haunted, what’s to stop them from, like, banging on the walls when we’re trying to sleep? Or, I don’t know, rattling the windows or something?”

“Ah, but our room doesn’t have windows,” Harry says, again, as if that makes it any better.

“Are you going to murder me in a haunted inn in Savannah?” Louis asks, narrowing his eyes, but Harry just smiles at him and pulls back onto the road. 

“If I was going to murder you, I would make it look like an accident, duh.” Shaking his head, Harry sighs like he’s disappointed in Louis’ baseless, and clearly not well thought out, accusation. “I’m excited, babe. There’s a nice restaurant downstairs, and I made reservations. I get to wine and dine you and then take you upstairs to our room. The bed has curtains! And it’s not haunted. Promise.”

“Well, if you promise, then I’m sure the ghosts won’t—”

“You said you don’t believe in ghosts.”

“I’m just giving you a hard time, baby. It’s a little weird though, that the room doesn’t have windows.”

“I thought it’d be better without windows.” Harry pulls the truck into a parking lot around the corner from the inn and carefully backs the truck into a space before saying, “That way no one can hear you scream.”

Louis ignores him and climbs out of the truck. If they’re going to dinner, he has to figure out what to wear, and he doesn’t think anything they have will work, unless stained khaki hiking pants with a rip in the back pocket will do. Maybe there’s enough time to run out and buy something. He follows Harry through the inn, saying hello to the woman at the front desk, before heading upstairs. 

The room doesn’t look haunted. Though, Louis isn't sure what haunted looks like. And it definitely doesn’t have windows. It has a gas fireplace, not that they’ll use it. There's a decent bathroom with a tub. But the bed is the best part of the room, and he understands why Harry picked it. It’s a queen size, which is the same size as the bed in the camper, but the curtains around it should completely block out the light. 

“What’s this?” Louis asks, picking up a box from the small loveseat. 

“You’re not the only one who can call Niall,” Harry says, biting his lip and picking up the box. He sets it on the bed, and opens it, while Louis tries to guess what’s inside. “I asked Niall to send me your first date clothes. Well, actually, I asked him to get the clothes together, and Gemma picked them up and shipped them here with mine.”

“Seriously?” Louis asks, and Harry pulls out Louis’ favorite red polo and his first date black jeans—not too loose, not too tight, but snug on his bum. It’s like seeing two old friends. He takes them and lays them on the bed. “What about shoes?”

“Oh, um, well, shoes are kind of heavy,” Harry says, shaking the box. “But I figured we both have Vans, right? Those’ll be fine. I haven’t even worn mine.”

“What are you wearing?” Louis asks, and Harry pulls his clothes out of the box, laying them on the bed beside Louis’ things. A pair of red trousers and a button-up shirt with swirls of blue, red, yellow, and black. “I’m going to be underdressed.”

“No you won’t. You’ll look gorgeous,” Harry says, tossing the empty box back onto the loveseat. He cradles Louis’ face in his hands, and tilts his head, closing his eyes and kissing Louis slow and sweet. “You’re always gorgeous. You like the bandana?”

“Forgot I was wearing it,” Louis says, kissing the tip of Harry’s nose. He goes to the bathroom to fix his hair, but it doesn’t look too bad. “When’s dinner?”

“Eight,” Harry says, leaning in through the bathroom door. “Kind of want to take a bath, if that’s okay.”

“Sure, babe,” Louis says, wrapping the bandana around his wrist. “I’ll watch TV or something.”

Louis moves their clothes and lays on the bed, flipping through the channels until Harry calls, “Lou, honey, can you come in here?”

“Yeah, babe,” Louis says, and opens the bathroom door. 

“Hi,” Harry says, smiling up at him from his bubble bath. “I missed you.”

“Well, wash and get out, then,” Louis says, bending down and kissing his forehead. “You can watch TV with me.”

“No,” Harry says, flicking some bubbles at him. “Just wanted to see you.” 

Biting his lip to keep from telling Harry he loves him, again, Louis backs out of the bathroom and closes the door. He runs down to the truck to get their Vans out of the camper, and since Harry’s still in the bath when he gets back, Louis changes into his date clothes. They’re a little wrinkled from the box, but they seem fine. He smooths Harry’s shirt a few times, hoping he won’t be bothered that it’s not been ironed. His black and white checkered Vans don’t exactly match, but they’ll do. 

When Harry gets out of the bath, he asks Louis to hide behind the bed curtains while he gets dressed, and Louis agrees. While he’s sitting there in the dark listening to the rustling of Harry’s clothes, he wonders if he’s actually incapable of saying no to Harry. It’s quite possible. 

Harry pulls back the curtain, and Louis climbs out, smiling indulgently as he watches Harry clumsily twirl around. 

“First date, hmm?” Louis hooks his finger in Harry’s belt loop. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, stepping closer and crowding Louis against the bedpost. “I don’t usually put out on the first date, but I might make an exception.”

Louis snorts and bangs the back of his head on the wooden bedpost. “Calm down, curly. We’ve got dinner first. And we should probably keep an eye out, just in case someone recognizes us.”

“No…” Harry whines and pouts and throws himself on the bed on his stomach.

“Harold.”

“Lewis,” Harry says, face pressed into the bedspread. He rolls onto his back and reaches for Louis, letting him help him to his feet. “I don’t like that. It’s fucking weird.”

“It’s not that weird. We knew it was a possibility,” Louis says, rubbing his thumb over Harry’s scruffy cheek. “Remember Charlie and Zachary?”

“Yeah, but it was fine ’cause we weren’t hiding anything then,” Harry says, still pouting, though he stops long enough to kiss the palm of Louis’ hand.

Raising one eyebrow, Louis says, “You weren’t.” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah…” Louis chews on the inside of his cheek, pursing his lips. He nods and says, “Look, if someone finds out, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“We get fired,” Harry says.

“And we’re already planning to quit, right?” Louis waits for Harry’s nod before continuing, “I don’t think they’ll fire us, like, right this second. I think we’ll be okay to just… be. We’re just two guys going out to dinner.”

“Two coworkers,” Harry says.

“Even better. Now, let’s go eat.”

In a corner near the bar, mostly hidden from the rest of the dining room by part of an exposed brick wall, they sit across from each other at a table set for two. When Harry sees oysters on the menu, he wiggles his eyebrows and insists on ordering them. After they choose their meals and a bottle of wine, and the server pours their glasses, Louis takes a sip and leans forward in his chair.

“So, first date… You have any hobbies?” Louis asks.

Harry sits up straight, lifting his chin. “I do. I know some people don’t consider it a hobby, but I like to run.”

“Do you run races?” Louis asks, though he knows Harry doesn’t.

“No, but I’ve kind of always wanted to do a marathon,” Harry says.

“Really?”

“Yeah, but like, I know the training is a lot, and if I decided to do one, I’d want it to be a special one.”

“What, like, at Disney or something?” Louis asks. 

“Maybe,” Harry says, shrugging noncommittally. “Or like Berlin. Or Norway has this midnight sun marathon that would be cool to do.”

“You’ve put some thought into this,” Louis says, gently tapping the back of Harry’s hand. “What’s the longest— or I guess, what’s the farthest you’ve run?”

“Fifteen miles,” Harry says. “I don’t know if you remember, but right after I got hired, I pulled a groin muscle and I was, like, limping around the office.”

“Oh, I remember,” Louis says.

“Oh! You— You—” Harry clasps his hands to his cheeks, mouth hanging open. “I thought you were joking when you offered to massage my injury.”

“I was and I wasn’t.”

“I would’ve let you,” Harry says, sipping his wine. “I’m sure it would’ve been a very professional massage.”

“Not likely,” Louis says. “You underestimate my awkwardness around you when you’re naked.”

“You’re not awkward.”

“I was for the first half of this trip,” Louis reminds him. “Before we left I was panicking about the possibility of seeing your dick. Ask Niall.”

Harry covers his face, laughing behind his hands. “No more penis talk. What about you? Hobbies?”

Pursing his lips, Louis sits back, swirling the wine in his glass. “You know I coach kids’ soccer?”

“Yeah.” Harry nods and says, “Always wanted to come watch, but thought it might be weird for me to do that.”

“You can come,” Louis says. “It’s mostly me cheering them on.”

“What else?” Harry asks. “Since I already knew that.”

“Okay, but only because you’d find out anyway,” Louis says, brushing his hair off his forehead. “Niall’s teaching me to play guitar.”

“Shut up. Really?” Harry asks, white bunny teeth biting his lower lip. 

“Yeah, I mean, not now, obviously. And I’ve probably forgotten everything I’ve learned so far. Only had the thing for a few months before we left.”

“You could’ve brought it,” Harry says, but Louis shakes his head. 

They spend the rest of their date asking each other questions and finding out little things that they’ve missed in the three years they’ve known each other. 

Louis knew that Harry could juggle, but not that he taught himself in order to impress a guy at summer camp that he desperately wanted to be friends with, back when he was fourteen and didn’t quite understand his own motives. And Harry knew that Louis used to skateboard, thanks to a long ago conversation about interesting scars when Louis showed him the one on his forearm that he got the first time he attempted to slide down a stair rail. But he didn’t know that Louis still skated sometimes to let off steam, or that he’d be willing to teach Harry whenever he wanted to learn. 

They finish dinner, and split dessert, both of them drinking more water than wine in anticipation of an early morning and another long drive. By the time they get up to their room, they’re both yawning, and Louis fully expects Harry to be asleep when he finally gets out of the shower. Instead, he finds Harry naked and fully hard, jerking off in the middle of the bed. 

“Harry, what the hell?” Louis crosses the short distance to the bed, towel still wrapped around his waist. 

“Wine makes me horny,” Harry says, thumbing the tip of his cock and bucking into his hand. 

Crawling onto the bed beside him, Louis’ gaze slowly travels from Harry’s hand on his dick, over his flushed chest where he pauses to watch Harry play with his own nipples, and up to Harry’s face. “When are you not horny?” 

“It’s your fault,” Harry says petulantly, reaching for Louis and pulling the towel loose, bypassing his hardening cock. He slips his hand around to Louis’ ass and traces the curve of it with his fingertips. 

“You couldn’t wait for me?” Louis asks, scooting closer to give Harry better access. 

“Thought you’d be too tired,” Harry says, slipping his fingers between Louis’ cheeks. “You were yawning and saying you wanted to sleep.”

“Well, now I want to suck you off,” Louis says, bending down and licking the precome from Harry’s dick. 

“Can you, um…” Harry looks away, biting the inside of his cheek. “Can you get on top of me? Let me, um…”

“Sixty-nine?” Louis offers, though that’s always easier if he lays on his side. 

“Sort of. Want my mouth on your ass,” Harry says, and then grimaces like he said too much. 

It turns out that two glasses of wine is the exact amount Louis needs to lower his inhibitions enough that all he does is nod, turn and swing his leg over Harry’s stomach. He looks back over his shoulder, eyebrows raised, and says, “Bet I make you come first.”

“Not fair, I—” Harry’s words turn to a strangled groan when Louis takes the head of his dick into his mouth. 

The apparent shock of Louis’ practically mounting him wears off, and Harry palms his ass, pulling his cheeks apart. He slides his hands around to the front of Louis’ thighs and yanks him up the bed, pulling Louis off his cock and right onto his face. 

Harry dives in tongue first, licking from behind Louis’ balls to the base of his spine, but Louis gives as good as he gets, holding Harry’s hips down and sucking his dick the way he’s learned that Harry likes it. 

Humming against his rim, Harry works him over with his tongue, getting him wet and slippery, and loosening him up enough to slide the tip of his finger inside. Louis pushes back against the pressure, jacking Harry off, and focusing on the head. There’s no telling how close Harry was before he walked out of the bathroom, but he’s already almost there, balls pulled tight to his body. 

Doubling his efforts and trying to ignore the sensation of Harry fucking his tongue in and out of his ass, Louis sucks him down again, taking as much as he can until the head of Harry’s dick hits the back of his throat and he gags. He lifts up, stroking him faster while trying to catch his breath, and Harry’s orgasm hits. His hips jerk and Louis ducks down, mouthing at the head and swallowing what he can. 

While Louis licks him clean, Harry eats him out with renewed vigor, holding him open and alternately fucking his tongue inside and stretching him with his finger. Overcome with the need to take the edge off, Louis reaches for his cock, and Harry smacks his ass once, hard enough to sting.

“No,” Harry mumbles, burying his face between Louis’ cheeks, and wrapping his own hand around Louis’ dick. Licking him out and jerking him off, Harry brings him closer, and forces his finger deeper, finding his prostate and massaging it until Louis comes. His muscles spasm, tightening around Harry’s finger, and Harry works him through it with slow strokes and wet kisses to his rim. 

Trembling with the aftershocks from his orgasm and unable to move, Louis slumps forward, landing in his own come on Harry’s chest and stomach. Harry helps him roll to the side, and they lay there for a moment, Louis’ feet up on the headboard.

“I just took a shower,” Louis says, staring at the ceiling.

“We can take another one,” Harry says, wiping his face with his hand. “Was that okay?”

Louis snorts. “Baby, you can do that every single day, if you’d like.”

“Maybe every other day,” Harry says, like he’s really considering rimming Louis three or four times a week. “We should mix it up.”

“Whatever you say, Harold,” Louis says, struggling to his feet. His legs are tingly. “Careful getting up. I think we managed not to get any come on the bed. And I don’t want some ghost pissed off because we dirtied the linens.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts,” Harry says, standing and following Louis to the bathroom. 

“I’m not taking any chances,” Louis says, and turns on the shower.

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

Huntington Beach State Park in South Carolina is hot as fuck and it rains every afternoon around three o’clock. Not just rain, either. Big, booming thunderstorms that rattle the camper for a few hours, and leave it even more humid outside. 

But while it’s not raining, they enjoy their time at the park. Atalaya, the castle there, is open for them to tour, and learning the history of the couple who originally lived in it leads them to the nearby gardens. They aren’t a part of the park, but they’re close enough that they ride their bikes over and spend part of the day walking around the sculpture garden. 

In the late afternoon, they wander over to the zoo, which Louis expects to hate. It turns out to be more of a wildlife refuge, with rescued and injured local animals living in natural habitats. River otters are the first thing they see and after they make their way around the zoo, they come back to watch them again. Harry runs back and forth in front of them and they swim along beside him, following him, and Louis joins in until they have to stop from laughing too hard. 

A tram takes them to the main parking lot, and they ride their bikes back over to the park.

It’s a relaxing few days, which is just what they needed. 

Saturday, they leave a little later than usual for the four hour drive to Hammocks Beach, North Carolina, and as soon as they get there, they eat a late lunch. At this park, they won’t have easy access to the camper, and neither of them are looking forward to it. 

With their backpacks full of everything they might need until Monday morning, they haul the kayak and a cooler of food and water down to the launch area, and bungee the cooler to the kayak before climbing in and paddling over to Bear Island. 

According to the ranger they spoke to, there’s only been one bear actually on the island in recent years, and it was a cub that swam over from the mainland, and left shortly after when there wasn’t enough food or fresh water to sustain it. Still, there are bear lockers. 

It’s more than two and a half miles by kayak to Bear Island, and after driving four hours, they’re both so tired that they lay down on the picnic table at their site until the sun is too hot and they have to move. 

“I guess we should set up the tents,” Harry says, checking that the bear locker is properly closed. 

“Why’d we bring both?” Louis asks, pulling his tent out of its bag. 

Harry sighs. “Do you want me in your tent?”

“Of course I do,” Louis says, rolling his eyes and tossing Harry’s tent to him. “Set it up anyway. We’ll put everything that doesn’t go in the bear locker in your tent.”

At least the sand is comfortable enough to lay on because the low at night is supposed to be in the mid-eighties. With both sleeping bags in Louis’ tent, they fall asleep on top of them, sweaty and tangled together, wearing nothing but their underwear. 

There isn’t much to do on Bear Island. They start the day by walking the length of the beach. It’s almost four miles from their campsite to the south end of the island, so about eight miles by the time they get back and have lunch. Three months ago, Louis would’ve balked at the idea of walking eight miles in the morning and following it up with kayaking for a few hours and a swim in the ocean.

Just before dinner, they haul the kayak back to their campsite, and walk through the sand, down the beach to the ocean. 

“So, while they have a lot of paddling trails through the marsh on the west side of the Bear Island, they also have a protected swimming area on the ocean,” Harry says, wading out into the water. He splashes Louis, but doesn’t splash the camera lens, and Louis rolls his eyes. “It’s kind of funny, I think, that we haven’t been swimming in the ocean that much on this trip.”

“Yeah, just a few times,” Louis says, watching Harry through the camera as he dives under a wave. He comes up farther out in the ocean, shaking his head and sending droplets of salty water flying. “You want to talk about the campsite?”

Harry stands, water dripping down the plane of his chest, and Louis experiences a surge of jealousy that surprises him. Other people are going to see Harry half naked and wet. It’s likely that they already have. 

“Harry, baby,” Louis says, and Harry’s mouth drops open.

“Lou! I haven’t screwed up all day!” Harry falls backwards into the water, and when his head pops back up, he says, “Apologize to Niall.”

“Sorry, Niall,” Louis says to the camera.

“What were you going to say?” Harry asks, combing his wet curls out of his face.

“Just that you…” Louis sighs, turning off the camera. “Sorry. You look so hot. I hate those shorts.”

“I thought you liked them,” Harry says, standing again and tugging on the hem of his pink shorts. 

“I love them. But I hate them on camera,” Louis says slowly, and Harry narrows his eyes.

“Lewis,” Harry says, walking through the water until they’re inches from each other. “Kiss me.”

Louis does it, happily. Tasting the salt water, sucking Harry’s lip between his teeth. He grips Harry’s hip and slips his thumb under the waistband of his bathing suit. “Sorry. I just realized that there are people watching these videos and, like, looking at you.”

“Did you think they weren’t looking at me before?” 

“No, but I didn’t realize they were probably looking at you like, how I look at you,” Louis says, kissing Harry’s shoulder. 

“I don’t think so,” Harry says, laughing and backing away. “Lou, no one’s ever looked at me the way you look at me. And, like, I know I didn’t see it before, or maybe you were just good at pretending before, but… don’t be jealous of some unknown person out there. I’m with you.”

Crossing his arms, Louis steps closer and kisses Harry’s cheek. “I’m not actually jealous, you know. I just had a moment.”

“I’ve had some moments,” Harry says, crossing his arms and mimicking Louis’ posture. “So, you’re saying you want me to take my shorts off?”

“No!” Louis shoves his shoulder and Harry stumbles back. 

A few seconds later, Louis is completely underwater and Harry is too. They wrestle and splash each other until Harry accidentally knees Louis in the balls, then they call a truce. And record the rest with only Harry’s head and shoulders sticking out of the water. 

“We’re tent camping again,” Harry says. “And we didn’t record anything about it yesterday because we were really, really not looking forward to it at all. After our experience at Mount Greylock in Massachusetts, we both thought tent camping wasn’t our thing, and that’s not a knock on that park at all. We just weren’t prepared. But it’s very different here, and while it _is_ a primitive tent campsite, it’s on the sand, by the beach.”

“No bears,” Louis says, and Harry nods. 

“No bears. We’ll video the campsite, too.”

Louis turns the camera off, and they wade back through the water. “We’ll have to make sure the video doesn’t show inside the tents. Or we’ll have to put a sleeping bag in the other tent so it’s not obvious we’re sleeping together.”

“Sleeping together,” Harry says, scoffing and pinching Louis’ bum. 

“You know what I meant, Harold,” Louis says, taking his hand and jerking him to a stop. “You know that, right? This is much more than— than sex to me.”

“I know,” Harry says, lifting their joined hands and kissing Louis’ wrist. “Me too.”

While Harry gets their food out of the bear lockers, Louis rearranges their tents, and they do a quick video to show the campsite. There’s nothing they can do to stop sand from getting in the tent, but they try their best, pulling the sleeping bags out and shaking them off before they eat, and shower, and get ready for bed. Harry takes forever at the showers, to the point where Louis starts to think maybe he walked back to the tent alone, but they’d agreed to wait for each other, so Louis sits on the bench until he finally comes outside.

“Sorry I took so long,” Harry says, elbowing Louis. “There was a line.”

“There was no line, Harold. I was in there.”

“There was a line, Lewis.”

“Liar.”

“Maybe.”

At the tent, they brush as much sand off their feet as they can, and carefully climb inside, trying to at least contain the sand to the bottom of the tent where their feet are. Louis balls his shirt up at the top of the tent, and after Harry does the same, they settle down on top of the sleeping bags. From the tent, they can sort of watch the sunset. They can’t see the sun actually setting, but the sky above them changes colors, and they get to watch the stars appear. 

“One more week,” Louis says, feeling Harry nod where his face is half hidden in Louis’ armpit. 

“Lou?”

“Yeah?”

“There wasn’t a line in the showers.”

“I am fully aware of that, babe.”

“I was, um…” Reaching up and dragging his fingertip across the mesh top of the tent, Harry says, “I want to ride you.”

Louis sucks in a sharp breath. “But we don’t have—”

“I brought lube and condoms. And I fingered myself in the shower. That’s what took so long. I wanted you to do it, but with the sand everywhere…” Harry pulls a condom and lube out of nowhere, kicks his boxers off and gets up on his knees. “I thought maybe it’d be best for me to do it.”

“Jesus Christ, Harry,” Louis says as Harry climbs on top of him, scooting down to sit on Louis’ thighs.

“Is this okay?” Harry asks.

“Yeah, baby. I’m a little surprised though. Give me a minute to like, catch up.”

Instead of giving him a minute, Harry pours lube into his hand and starts to jerk Louis off, leaning down to kiss him.

“Where’d you have that stuff?” Louis asks, running his hands over Harry’s back.

“In my hand. You didn’t even notice.”

“Sneaky,” Louis says, cupping Harry’s ass and slipping his fingers between his cheeks. While his fingers are dry, Harry’s rim is wet and stretched. No wonder he took so long. If he did a thorough job, he probably had to wait for his erection to go back down before he could leave the shower. 

Harry kisses his neck and chest, nuzzling Louis’ side and jerking him until he’s hard. It’s still hot as fuck out, the temperature’s barely dropped from earlier that day, and they’re both sweating like they didn’t just shower. Sitting back, Harry opens the condom, rolling it on, and it hits Louis that this is the first time he’ll be inside Harry. There’ve been a few fingers during blow jobs, but they haven’t done this yet, and he suddenly feels overwhelmed and nervous. 

“God, I hope there’s no sand on your dick,” Harry says, and Louis chokes on a laugh.

“You’re the one touching it,” Louis says, laying his arms over his head to make his point. “That’s on you.”

“True,” Harry says, opening the lube again and coating Louis’ condom covered cock in so much of it that it drips onto his balls. He reaches around and Louis gasps, knowing that Harry’s pushing lube inside himself, but not being able to see. Harry lifts up, tosses the lube away, and circles his hand around Louis’ dick. “Be still, babe.”

“I haven’t—” Louis flexes the muscles in his stomach in an effort to keep from moving at all while Harry rocks back and forth, rubbing the head of Louis’ cock up and down his crack. When it catches on his rim, Harry smiles and spreads his legs a little, sitting back until the head pushes past the initial tightness. “Oh my god.”

“Yeah…” Letting his head fall back, Harry slowly sinks down on Louis’ dick, swiveling his hips and moving his hand out of the way. 

Louis can’t take his eyes off of Harry, though it’s dark and the only light is from the stars and the waning moon. Above them, the sky provides a backdrop for Harry’s outline, as he gradually takes the last few inches, and leans forward, propping himself up with his hands on Louis’ chest. 

“I love you,” Louis says, unable to stop himself. 

“Lou, what—” Harry pushes himself back, still impaled on Louis’ cock, forcing it deeper. "Fuck!" 

Panicking underneath him, Louis rushes out, “You don’t have to say you love me! You don’t have to say—”

“I love you, too, you asshole,” Harry whispers, smacking Louis’ arm. “I can’t believe…” Circling his hips, Harry trails off, humming and lifting up a bit before sitting back down. “I can’t believe you said that  _ now.” _

“I’m sorry?” Louis bites his lip, running his hands up Harry’s thighs. He bends his knees, and Harry whimpers, riding Louis a little faster. Tight and wet, and thankfully free of sand, their bodies slide together, and Louis tries to speak, “I do— Fuck. Oh… Love you. So much.”

Leaning down, hands on Louis’ chest, Harry works himself over Louis’ cock, eyes closed and brow furrowed in concentration. He mutters, “Say it again.”

“Yeah?” Louis asks softly, and when Harry nods, Louis grips hips waist, bucking his hips. “Love you, love you, love you, lo—”

Harry cuts him off, licking into his open mouth, kissing him messily, and meeting Louis’ thrusts. If they had room, Louis would roll them over and bend Harry in half, fuck him hard and fast until they both come. Sliding his hands over Harry’s ribs, Louis thumbs at his nipples, then clutches Harry’s shoulders, holding him still while he dicks into him deep. He squeezes Harry’s biceps, and reaches up to tangle his fingers in Harry’s hair, tilting his head and sucking on his lower lip.

“Love you, Lou,” Harry mumbles into his mouth, before pushing himself up and back. With his hands on his thighs, Harry circles his hips, and Louis runs his fingertips over Harry’s chest, through the sweat to rest his hand over his heart. 

Quickening his pace, Harry lays his hand over Louis’ and guides him to his cock. “So close,” Harry whispers, as Louis wraps his fingers around him, stroking him fast, his own orgasm hitting him when Harry’s muscles clench tight. Come spurts from Harry’s dick over Louis’ hand and onto his stomach, while he pulses inside the condom, throwing his head back and moaning, trembling through his release. 

“Holy shit,” Harry says, gingerly lifting himself off of Louis, and kneeling beside him. He wipes Louis’ stomach clean with one of their shirts, and Louis sits up, attempting to remove the condom without making a mess. Eventually, he manages, and ties the end, wrapping it up in the soiled t-shirt after he uses it to finish cleaning himself off. 

Louis tucks the t-shirt into the bottom corner of the tent, and lays down on his side next to Harry, kissing him sweetly. He pulls back a bit and nudges Harry’s nose, whispering, “I love you, Harry.”

“I love you, too,” Harry says, draping his arm over Louis’ waist and scooting closer, fitting his knee between Louis’ legs. “I don’t want to go back home.”

“Back to reality,” Louis says.

“Yeah, that,” Harry says, sighing quietly as he traces over the bumps of Louis’ spine with his thumb. “But… I guess we can’t stay here.”

“Nope,” Louis says, kissing Harry’s forehead. “One more week.”

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fic post](https://kingsofeverything.tumblr.com/post/630877050004209664/by-kingsofeverything-with-fantastic-art-by)


	7. Chapter 7

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

The last week starts with them waking up sweaty and sticky and stumbling to the ocean in their swimsuits at sunrise. They pack up, and haul their kayak to the boat launch and paddle back to the mainland, driving four hours to First Landing State Park in Virginia. 

It’s a little melancholy, and a little anticlimactic. Neither of them want to go home, but they’re both ready for the trip to be over. At the last park—Blackwater Falls State Park in West Virginia—they’re surprised at the park registration desk by being given a key to a cabin. Of course, the cabin is nice, and they record a video tour, but they can’t muster much excitement. 

Having a cabin and a bedroom with no one else close by does give Louis the opportunity to get fucked the way he’s wanted to, so that’s a definite plus. Not that they’ll include that in the YouTube video, but Louis makes Harry laugh until he gets the hiccups by pretending to speak to the camera afterwards.

“Ever since we got together, I’ve been wanting Harry to fuck me really hard. You know? Just give it to me. He’s got a big dick, so I was thinking hands and knees, and the wooden headboard is just the right style for me to hold onto while he really pounded my ass,” Louis says, smacking his own bum, then gesturing to the bed. He raises his voice over Harry’s giggles, and adds, “Some of the best sex I’ve ever had, and you can have that too. Make sure to call for reservations.”

There’s a washer and dryer in the cabin, which is convenient, so all of their laundry is clean and dry before they head back to DC on Friday. 

“I texted Gemma,” Harry says, and Louis turns off the music. “Asked her to clear out for a few days. She said she’s already moved out, and was waiting to surprise me. So we have my apartment, if you want to, um…”

“I want to,” Louis says, glancing over at him, then focusing on the road ahead. “We’ll just drop our stuff off, then take the camper to Liam, and go to your place.”

It’s midafternoon on Friday when they get to DC, so they stop at Louis and Niall’s apartment first, hauling most of Louis’ things up the stairs in one trip. They dump it on the floor in the walled in porch room, and then drive to Harry’s apartment. Everything else in the camper that doesn’t belong to Tellurian International, gets carried inside.

“Oh… Let’s order Chinese for dinner,” Harry says, when they get back in the truck and start for the office.

“Whatever you want, babe,” Louis says. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

Louis parks the truck in front of the building, and cuts the engine. “Ready?”

“No,” Harry says, leaning over and kissing Louis’ cheek. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Louis says, turning and rubbing the tips of their noses together. 

“Okay, now I’m ready,” Harry says, sitting back and wiping his eyes behind his sunglasses. 

“Harold,” Louis whispers, tucking a loose curl behind his ear. 

“Sorry,” Harry says, shaking his head and taking a deep breath. “I’m crying in a cool way. Promise. I'm just a little emotional about this whole trip being over.”

“Well, you can’t cry or I’ll start crying,” Louis says, cupping Harry’s chin and turning his head towards him. 

“Okay. Okay. I can— Say something funny,” Harry says, taking his sunglasses off and dabbing at his eyes with the collar of his t-shirt.

“I can’t be funny on command, Harold,” Louis says with a scoff. “Oh, shit, here comes Niall.”

Harry whips his head around towards the entrance to the building just as Liam follows Niall out the door. “And Liam.”

“And Zayn. Quick,” Louis says, shoving Harry’s shoulder. “Suck me off.”

“Lou! What the fuck?” Harry pokes him hard in the ribs. “I’m not blowing you.”

“Joking?” Louis grins, opening the door and hopping out of the truck. 

“Hello, campers!” Niall shouts as Louis walks around the front of the truck.

“Neil!” Louis yells, running and jumping into his arms. Thankfully, after years of knowing each other, Niall knows what to expect and doesn’t drop him or fall over backwards. He sets Louis down and winks at him, then turns to Harry.

“Welcome back, new roomie,” Niall says, pulling Harry into a hug. 

“Thanks, Niall,” Harry says, face smushed into his neck. It’s difficult to curb his smile, but Louis tries. 

Zayn and Liam hug them too, despite the fact that they’re both a little sweaty, and Louis hands over the keys to the truck and the camper. 

“We’re, um…” Louis clears his throat, and says, “Harry said he’s tired and so am I, to be honest. So, we’re going to go, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, man,” Liam says, jingling the keys. “Niall collected some more questions for you guys. Sort of an exit interview for another special episode. So, whenever you want to, you can come in and do that.”

“Shouldn’t take more than an hour,” Zayn says. “But you can wait until you officially come back to work, if you want.”

“We’ll, um… We’ll let you know,” Harry says, looking to Louis, who nods.

“Yeah, we’ll let you know.”

“Right,” Niall says, winking again. “See you later!”

They wait for Liam to drive the camper away, and for Niall and Zayn to go back inside, then they start down the sidewalk. 

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

Harry’s apartment is oddly empty with Gemma already gone. There’s no furniture anywhere but his bedroom, but that’s fine since they don’t plan to get out of bed for the next two weeks. The living room is full of cardboard boxes that Gemma left behind, some of them kindly packed with Harry’s books, knick knacks, and other little things.

They order Chinese food, and eat it standing in the kitchen, then they shower together in Harry’s tiny bathroom, and fall asleep in his bed. 

Having an entire apartment to themselves with no place to go or be and no schedule to keep is the best way to end the summer. They fuck in the kitchen just because they can, with Louis bent over the counter, and Harry rushing to make him come before the pizza gets there, laughing when they finish and the pizza doesn’t arrive for another ten minutes. And they make love in Harry’s bed with Harry wrapping his legs around Louis’ waist, kissing between murmured declarations of love and adoration. 

For three days they put off the inevitable, but when Niall texts on Monday to ask if they’ve watched the new episode that went up Sunday night, they decide it’s time. 

There are thirteen episodes on the _Have Road, Will Travel_ YouTube channel. The special episode from the halfway point isn’t up yet, but Niall says it won’t go up until they get to episode twenty-four, which will be right before Christmas. 

They press play, and start with episode one.

“Oh, look at us,” Harry says, pointing at his laptop screen.

“So young, so unprepared, so— God, Harold. Look at that shit. Practically in my lap. Do you have any idea how hard it was to—” Louis shuts up when Harry kisses him.

On screen, they’re in the truck, on the way to the first park, and while his eyes are closed and he’s sucking on Harry’s bottom lip, he hears, “Hello, and welcome to _Have Road, Will Travel._ I’m Harry Styles and… Ouch, Harold! I’m Louis Tomlinson.”

The video cuts to them walking out of the Tellurian International building, seeing the camper for the first time. Niall did a good job. None of the weird bits were left in. They get to the second episode, and Louis groans. 

“Did they use that as the introduction to every episode? You elbowing me?” Louis hides his face in his pillow.

“It’s cute,” Harry says. 

“We recorded ourselves saying that shit at every park and Niall… I mean, it makes sense to be consistent, but I wish I’d known. Feel dumb for saying it every damn time.”

“Hush,” Harry says. “Watch.”

They spend all day watching on and off, but when they get to the part just before the hot air balloon ride in episode ten, Harry pauses it. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry says, brushing Louis’ hair off his face. “I was so pushy about that wedding and proposal thing with the balloon and the waterfall and asking who you were going to propose to.”

“It’s alright. Niall edited most of it out so it just looks like I’m telling people about it.”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

Louis sighs, cradling Harry’s jaw. “It’s fine, babe. Wouldn’t have worked out anyway since you didn’t like the hot air balloon.”

“Louis!” Harry hits him with his pillow. “You can’t just say stuff like that. We haven’t even been dating for two months.”

“Two months on Thursday,” Louis says, frowning and slightly confused. “What do you mean I can’t say— Oh.” 

Right away, Louis hops off the bed and leaves the room, disappearing into the bathroom, embarrassed not only that he practically told Harry he wants to marry him, but that he didn’t realize he said it. With the way he’s unable to control his mouth around Harry, it’s a wonder he kept his feelings a secret for three years. They shouldn’t just slip out like that, unguarded. Not when they’ve been dating for such a short time. 

He’s barely had time to piss before Harry’s banging on the door.

“Open the door, Lou!” 

“No!” Louis shouts back. 

“Louis, you’re being ridiculous,” Harry says, knocking quietly. “Open the door.”

“I didn’t mean it,” Louis says, still not opening the door. 

“Oh, well, that’s nice,” Harry snarkily says. “Thanks.”

Louis finishes washing his hands, and opens the door. “At least I didn’t say it with my dick in you.”

“Rude,” Harry says, crossing his arms and leaning his shoulder against the door jamb. 

“Yeah, well, I love you. And it’s not like I was actually proposing,” Louis says, scratching his chin, and staring at Harry’s bare chest instead of looking him in the eye. “Can we just pretend it didn’t happen?”

Harry curls his arm around Louis’ neck and pulls him into a hug. “For now, I guess.”

“Thank you,” Louis says, kissing his shoulder. 

They don’t watch the last few episodes until the next day after breakfast, while they’re sipping coffee in bed. 

“What do you want to do today, Harold?” Louis asks, setting his mug on the bedside table. 

“Kind of want to go to the office, answer whatever questions Niall collected,” Harry says, looking through the comments under their most recent episode. “So many comments are just ‘LARRY IS REAL’ and blue and green hearts.”

“You think they’d all flip out if they knew the truth?” Louis asks, reading the screen as Harry slowly scrolls down. “We weren’t even together then.”

“Maybe,” Harry says, closing his laptop. “So, you up for it? Go in, answer some questions, come back here, order dinner, fuck on the living room floor?”

“Harold, I’m not doing anything on the living room floor,” Louis says, pushing the blanket off his legs. “Not when we have a bed and I have carpet burn on my knees.”

“But the rest?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

Before they leave, they call to make sure it’s a good time, and when Liam tells them to come on in, they head down to the office, staying a few feet apart so they don't accidentally touch. They even stand in opposite corners in the elevator, though that doesn't stop them from winking obnoxiously and pursing their lips to send each other kisses. 

The conference room where they stored all of their gear before the trip is where Zayn leads them, and it feels appropriate that they’d wrap things up in there. It’s a bit odd, though, sitting at the table next to each other with Zayn, Liam, and Niall on the other side. 

Niall sets up the camera to record their answers, but instead of Harry reading the questions off his phone, Liam and Zayn each have a small stack of notecards. 

“Welcome back, guys,” Liam says, smiling at them and holding up a card. “Niall compiled some questions that viewers left in the comments, but Zayn and I have some things we’d like to ask as well.”

“Sounds good,” Louis says, bumping his knee into Harry’s. From the corner of his eye, he can just see Harry’s smile. 

“Question one: How’s your friendship?” Liam asks, looking from Louis to Harry with raised eyebrows.

“Good,” Louis says.

“It’s great,” Harry says. “Lou’s my best friend.”

“Harold, Niall’s going to get jealous.”

“I’m really not,” Niall says, and Louis rolls his eyes. 

“Spending fifteen weeks cooped up in a tiny camper brought you closer?” Zayn asks.

“Yeah, I mean…” Louis chews on the inside of his lip. “Like we said before, we get along well anyway.”

“Okay,” Zayn says, reading his top card. “Question two: What was your favorite park? Harry?”

“Oh, um…” Harry takes a deep breath, sitting back in his seat and picking at his chapped lower lip. “I don’t know. I think Black Mesa in Oklahoma. That storm was wicked. And the dinosaur tracks were so cool to see.”

“Excellent choice,” Louis says, pressing his lips together. “I’m going to go with Hammocks Beach in North Carolina. I learned I can enjoy tent camping, so…”

Beside him, Harry scrunches his nose, probably remembering Louis’ in flagrante declaration of love that night in the tent. “That’s a good choice, too.”

“Right,” Liam says, tapping his cards on the table. “Question three: What was your favorite activity?”

Because his actual favorite activities involved Harry without clothes and aren’t appropriate subject matter for the YouTube series, Louis says, “Same as before. Sinks Canyon. Natural waterslide. So much fun, man.”

“Yeah, I’ll go with the same answer I gave last time,” Harry says, and Louis smiles at the sweet memory of their first kiss. “Sledding and sandboarding at Bruneau Dunes.”

“Okay, time for some new questions,” Liam says. “Question four: If you could go back in time, do it all again, would you?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Harry immediately answers.

“Me, too,” Louis says, pressing his knee against Harry’s thigh. 

Zayn twists his chair and pulls up closer to the table. “Alright, guys. Question number five: Is there anything you’d do differently, and if so, what?”

“Full moon in Kentucky,” Louis says without hesitation, and Harry cackles. “What? I’m serious. I’m still pissed we missed the moonbow.”

“Other than the moonbow," Harry says, nudging Louis' knee and folding his hands on the table top. "We actually talked about this when we had to rework our plans for stopping between parks. There was such a time crunch that sometimes it felt like we couldn’t enjoy ourselves. And I know that was kind of the point—not to _not_ enjoy ourselves, the short stays at the parks—but since you asked, yeah. More time at each park, and less time on the road. Maybe a few weeks out, and then home for a week or something.”

“Bathroom,” Louis says. “Initially, we were both put off by the idea of dealing with keeping the tanks clean, but the convenience would make it worth it. Like, a real bathroom with a shower and a sink and toilet in the camper.”

“Ooh, what about a generator?” Harry asks, spinning in his chair to face Louis. 

“I mean, yeah, ideally,” Louis says. “Not to necessarily use it all the time, but to have it if we needed it.”

“Next question,” Liam says, “Number six: Is there anything you wouldn’t want to do again?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Shrugging, Louis tilts his head side to side. “You mean like, magically all over again, or go back and do again?”

“Either,” Zayn says.

“I would magically not get my ass stuck in a cave,” Louis says, and Harry snorts quietly. “Harold would probably not get into the hot air balloon.”

“I was going to say white water rafting, just because it was really scary when you fell out on that rapid,” Harry says, combing his fingers through his curls. “But I’m not like, scared of going rafting again.”

“So, the hot air balloon?” Liam asks, but Harry shakes his head.

“No, I’d do that again,” Harry says, knocking their knees together. “Either way. As long as Lou’s with me.”

“Really?” Louis asks softly, and when Harry nods, Louis’ heart beats a little faster and his hands feel shaky, so he hides them in his lap. 

“Question seven: What was the worst thing about the trip?” Zayn asks.

Before he can finish the question, Louis says, “All the driving.”

“Yep, the driving,” Harry says. “At first, it wasn’t bad, but after a while it just got tedious.”

“Best thing?” Zayn shakes his head and says, “Sorry. Question eight: What was the best thing about the trip?”

Louis and Harry turn to look at each other at the same time. 

“This one,” Louis says, elbowing Harry. “Would’ve been boring without him.”

“Yeah, same,” Harry says, elbowing him back. 

They devolve into a shoving match, giggling and trying to push each other out of their chairs until Niall loudly clears his throat.

“Time for your final question, guys,” Liam says, grinning at them, and nodding to Zayn.

Zayn holds his last notecard up, and says, “Question nine: What would you say if we asked you to do this again?”

“Hmm?” Louis frowns, confused.

Harry pouts, tapping his finger against his lips. “Didn’t you already ask—”

“Oh, no, um…” Liam turns to Niall, motioning for him to cut. “Sorry. We’re asking if you two would be willing to do this again, but visit National Parks instead.”

“With a larger camper, and more time. We’d have to work out the details, obviously,” Zayn says, obviously pleased with their surprise offer. 

“I mean… What about our regular jobs?” Harry asks, as if they’re not planning to quit those as soon as possible. Still, he has a point.

“Well, the new series would be for TV, not YouTube,” Liam says, pushing his notecards aside. “So, you’d no longer be working for the books division.”

“But, if it works out,” Zayn says, leaning forward. “If the show takes off, which we think it will, we’d like to send you elsewhere, too. Alaska, definitely. Who knows where else?”

“That sounds amazing, but, um…” Harry glances over, and Louis nods, pressing his lips together. “Thank you, but I can’t.”

“Yeah, neither can I,” Louis says, reaching for Harry’s hand under the table. “We sort of have a conflict of interest.”

“That’s Lou’s way of saying we’re together, um… In a relationship together. In love,” Harry says, lifting their linked hands. “And we’ve been looking for jobs elsewhere, since we’re not allowed, um…” 

“The policy against dating within the company,” Louis finishes for him.

“Oh… Okay,” Liam says, holding one finger up. “Can you give us a moment? We’ll just step outside. Be right back.”

Louis nods and Harry says, “Yeah, sure.”

“Oh my god, you guys are going to turn down an offer to be on TV?” Niall asks as soon as the conference room door closes. “You could be stars!”

“Right,” Louis says, chuckling and shaking his head.

“It doesn’t matter, Niall,” Harry says with a sigh. “We can’t do it. Like, even if we hadn't told them about us, there’s no way I’d want to have to pretend not to be together again every time we’re on camera. It’s too hard. And shitty.”

“Yeah, I don’t want that either,” Louis says, pursing his lips until Harry indulges him with a quick kiss. “Love you.”

“Love you, too, honey,” Harry whispers, smiling against Louis’ lips.

Niall falls to the floor on the other side of the conference table. “You two are disgusting and I refuse to—”

The conference room door opens, and Liam and Zayn walk in smiling, which is unsettling. Louis sits up straight in his chair.

“Like we said,” Liam starts, pulling out his chair and sitting again, while Niall gets to his feet. “Niall, sit.” Niall sits beside him, and Liam continues, “As I was saying, the offer is for our television channel. Our TV division is run differently. For example, this summer, the two of you continued to receive your regular pay, along with the per diem that you agreed to within the contract.”

“In the TV division, you wouldn’t get a salary,” Zayn says, sliding two blue folders across the table. “You’d be paid per episode. And you’d basically be independent contractors.”

“I don’t understand,” Louis says, glancing at Harry who squeezes his hand. 

“Louis, the office policies of Tellurian International wouldn’t apply,” Liam says, nudging the folders closer to them. “In fact, just with our quick conversation in the hall, we think we could spin it. It could be the hook the show needs.”

_“Have Road, Will Travel_ is great. We love it,” Zayn says, pointing at them. “But what about _Have Love, Will Travel?_ It’s a step up, right? You two, new relationship, traveling together?”

“Are you kidding?” Louis asks, laughing quietly.

“Not at all,” Liam says. “Do us a favor. Think it over. We’ll email you some details in a few days. Need to talk to Bebe and get it all sorted with HR.”

“You’re serious?” Harry asks, eyes wide when he turns to Louis. “They’re serious?”

“Very serious,” Liam says, rolling his chair back and standing. “Like I said, we’ll email you.”

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣ 

The email comes a few days later, followed by an in-person meeting a week after that where they outline their requirements, and another in-person meeting about a month after that where they sign so many pieces of paper that their hands hurt.

They’ll begin in January, with a brand new camper—an Airstream Bambi travel trailer—and head west for southern California. Three full days and four nights at each park, and a year and a half to hit every National Park, National Seashore, and National Lakeshore that allows camping in each of the lower forty-eight states. That’s what they eventually agreed to, even though with some of the parks they’ll spend half of that time traveling. And while they haven’t started yet, they’ve already been brainstorming ideas for follow-up seasons, if the show goes well. The parks are nice and all, but eventually they’d like to travel internationally, maybe see some places that don’t have paved paths, learn more about different cultures and the history of the lands from the people who live there. 

For now, that’s all still in the dream stage. And for now, they get to enjoy a little time off.

“I love you,” Louis says, blinking his eyes open and looking down at Harry.

“Honey, you’ve got to stop saying that the second you get your dick in me,” Harry says, wrapping his legs around Louis’ waist. 

“Can’t help it,” Louis says, dipping down to kiss the hollow of Harry’s throat, and grinding against his ass. 

“Yeah,” Harry whispers, hitching his legs higher. “Love you, too. Now fuck me.”

Rolling his eyes, Louis scoffs, and Harry reaches down to smack his bum. Slowly, Louis shifts his hips back, and inch by inch, pushes inside. Three months together, and he’s more enthralled with Harry every day. 

With his weight on his left arm, Louis smoothes his right hand over the curve of Harry’s ass, tracing his fingertips along his rim where he’s stretched tight around him. He slides inside, holding his breath as the heat of Harry’s body accommodates him. 

“I’m going to take a nap,” Harry says, closing his eyes and faking a loud snore. 

“Fuck you,” Louis says, laughing and pinching Harry’s ass. 

“That’s what I’m trying to get you to do,” Harry says, dropping his legs to the side. “I’m turning over.”

Louis huffs, but pulls out carefully, sitting back on his heels. “Sorry.”

“Lou, I love it. Promise,” Harry says, getting to his knees. He cups Louis’ jaw and kisses him thoroughly. “I just want to come before Niall gets home, and that’s your ‘Making Love All Night Long’ position.”

“Is that what you call it?” Louis asks, urging Harry over onto his hands and knees. 

“That’s how I think of it,” Harry says, wiggling his ass and looking back over his shoulder. “Come on, babe.”

“What do you call this position?” Louis asks, spreading Harry’s cheeks apart with one hand and lining up. 

As soon as he pushes inside, Harry rocks against him, and says, “‘The Fast and the Furious.’”

Louis snorts, and then giggles, body shaking while he tries to gain control of his laughter. He grips Harry’s hips to keep him from fucking back on his cock, and when he’s finally able to speak, he says, “That’s the worst thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Dropping to rest on his elbows, Harry groans. “Worse than the mullet comment?”

“Yes.”

“If Niall gets home before I come, I’m—”

Interrupting him with a harsh thrust, Louis says, “Stop saying his name.” 

“Then shut up and fuck me,” Harry says. 

“'The Fast and the Furious',” Louis mumbles, immediately pounding into him. If Harry’s going to be a smart ass, then he’ll make him come in record time. Hands on Harry’s ass, Louis holds him open, watching his dick disappear and reappear. Like magic. He’ll make sure to tell Harry that later. Now that he’s worked up a rhythm, and Harry’s meeting his movements, their room is filled with the sound of skin on skin and he doesn’t want to interrupt that with another bout of giggles. 

When he slides his hands over Harry’s back, Louis feels the muscles shift, bending down to kiss his shoulder blade. He whispers, “Hands on the headboard.”

Harry nods, pushing himself up. The headboard is a cheap metal thing from IKEA, but it’s tall enough that when Harry holds onto it, the angle their bodies make is perfect for Louis to fuck him and almost constantly hit his prostate. Instant orgasm position. He’ll have to tell Harry that one later, too. 

Driving into him, headboard banging on the wall, Louis grunts every time he hits Harry’s spot, and Harry whines desperately, head thrown back. When his orgasm approaches, his nonsense noises turn to a chant, as he quickly repeats, “Yeah, yeah, yeah…”

Eyes locked on the place where their bodies meet, Louis reaches around to stroke Harry’s cock, squeezing the base and then thumbing the slit until he goes silent, pushing back against Louis hard enough that he winds up kneeling with Harry sitting on his dick. 

Come spurts over Louis’ fist, and Harry trembles, muscles clenching while Louis kisses the back of his neck. As soon as he regains control, Harry bounces on Louis’ cock, pulling his orgasm from him so fast that Louis gasps, bucking his hips and biting Harry’s shoulder. 

Panting against Harry’s back, Louis wraps his arm around Harry’s waist. “Harold, did you come on my pillow?”

Harry snickers, lifting himself off of Louis’ lap and crawling to the edge of the bed. “I’ll wash it. We have a spare pillowcase.”

“Kiss me?” Louis scoots a little closer, leaning in, and meeting Harry’s lips in a soft kiss. 

“I love you,” Harry says, nudging their noses together.

“Baby, you’ve got to stop saying that as soon as I make you come,” Louis says, kissing him again. “So embarrassing.”

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fic post](https://kingsofeverything.tumblr.com/post/630877050004209664/by-kingsofeverything-with-fantastic-art-by)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quick epilogue ❤️

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣ 

In July, Louis and Harry celebrated one year together while they were in Yellowstone National Park. It wasn’t what Louis wanted. He would’ve preferred to go back to Kentucky to see the moonbow, but unfortunately, their anniversary fell on a new moon. 

They don’t get to return to Cumberland Falls until November, when they’re on the way back to DC, finished filming for the year. They planned it that way, both of them eager to actually see the moonbow and get home. The new camper is nice, but it’s still a camper, and they miss their bed. They rent a cabin near the falls because they’re not working and they want it to feel a little more like a vacation, even though it’s just a stop on the way home. 

“Come on, babe,” Harry says, leaning into the bedroom and knocking on the open door. “I want to beat the crowd.”

“The crowd,” Louis repeats, pulling his hoodie over his head. He pats his pockets, and says, “We have three chances to see it.”

“I know, but what if it’s cloudy or rains tomorrow?” Harry asks, reaching for the strings of Louis’ hoodie. He ties them in a bow and kisses Louis quickly. “Let’s go.”

“You’re the one kissing me,” Louis says, draping his arms over Harry's shoulders and pressing their lips together again. “Blocking the doorway.”

Harry moves out of the way, grinning as he walks backwards and Louis follows him through the cabin. 

Moonrise is at just before nine o’clock, and the full moon isn't technically until the next night, though the moonbow should be visible tonight. They make their way to the falls, holding hands along the path. 

It’s been a hell of a year. More and more, they’re recognized when they’re filming, and it’s hard to get used to, but it’s not awful. With their own hoodies on instead of International Tellurian merch, and the hoods pulled up, hopefully no one will know who they are. 

“It looks the same,” Harry says when they reach the walkway near the falls. 

“Did you expect it to look different?” Louis asks, tugging Harry's hand. He leads him towards the stairs so they can get a little closer to the water. Supposedly the view of the moonbow is better from below. 

“Not really,” Harry says, “There are more people though.”

“Everybody wants to see the moonbow,” Louis says, looking around. “Glad we didn’t come in July.”

“Told you,” Harry says, letting go of Louis’ hand and pinching his bum.

“Harold, behave yourself,” Louis says, reaching around and smacking Harry's ass. He walks to the corner of the bridge, pulling the mini tripod from his hoodie pocket. “I think we can set it up here.”

Harry waits while Louis adjusts the brackets and attaches the tripod to the railing, then he hands over the camera. 

“I wish we could see the moonbow,” Harry says, peering through the viewfinder. 

“Harold, that’s why we’re here.”

“You know what I mean,” Harry says, leaning back against the railing. 

“I know, babe, but we’ll have pictures,” Louis says, not that Harry doesn’t know that. The moonbow isn’t a visible, colorful prism until it's photographed. In person, it’s a misty, moonlit arc of white. 

Louis rests his elbows on the railing, facing the falls, and Harry turns to do the same. They watch the water, waiting for the moon. 

With the railing there to steady his hands, Louis hopes he manages to keep from looking nervous. Tonight is a rehearsal of sorts. If it goes well, tomorrow night, when the moon is full, and everyone is distracted by the moonbow, he’ll get down on one knee. He just needs to be sure that the camera is correctly placed and that they have the best possible view while still staying out of the way of the crowd. 

“Here it comes,” Harry whispers, bumping their shoulders together. He points behind them and Louis cranes his neck to watch the moon rise over the trees. 

Despite Harry’s concerns about the weather, the forecast over the next few days is for clear skies. And he’s glad, in a way, that they couldn’t come in July, because it would’ve been too crowded. 

Tonight, after they take a few pictures, Louis wants to drive into town for dinner. The last time they were here, neither of them knew that KFC was founded there and that the original restaurant was in town and still open. It’s a perfect distraction. They’ll go to the first KFC, eat dinner, check out the little museum, and Louis can talk about how happy he is to be able to cross the moonbow off his list. Maybe he’ll even mention something about visiting the Great Smoky Mountains National Park and the hot air balloons there to throw Harry off a bit. 

Louis turns back to the camera, watching the moonlight in the mist over the falls. It’s beautiful, even if he can’t see the prism. With the camera’s remote, he takes picture after picture, knowing that he won’t be able to do it tomorrow night. Once the moon’s high in the sky, his nerves finally start to settle. 

After taking one last picture, Louis slips the remote into the pocket of his hoodie. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans, rubbing his fingertips over the velvet ring box. Still there. 

Hiding it in the camper had been nearly impossible, but when he noticed that Harry always went for the left side of the table and he always went for the right, he’d hidden it under the seat cushion. As soon as they got to Kentucky, he put it in his pocket, afraid he’d forget it when the moment came. 

“Harold, you’re awfully quiet,” Louis says, looking around behind him.

“Yeah, sorry,” Harry says, swaying side to side, hands in his hoodie pocket. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Can’t wait to see the pictures.”

“Hopefully they’ll turn out,” Louis says, loosening the camera from the tripod. “You cold?”

Harry shakes his head. 

While he’s thinking about it, Louis presses record, figuring they might as well get some footage about the moonbow since they missed it last time. Maybe Niall can use it. 

Louis turns, aiming the camera at Harry. “Say something for the camera, Harold.”

Reaching up, Harry pushes his hood back, then goes down on one knee. “Louis, I—”

“What are you doing?” Louis asks, eyes wide as he looks around at the few people watching the falls. 

“I’m trying to propose,” Harry says, raising his eyebrows. “Are you recording?”

“I…” Checking that he is, in fact, recording, Louis says, “I am.”

“Are you going to keep recording?” Harry asks, and Louis nods, heart rabbiting in his chest. “Okay, well, I hope you say yes—”

“Of course I’ll say yes!” Louis' hands tremble, but he holds tight to the camera with one hand while fishing around in his pocket with the other. 

Smirking, Harry asks, “Should I bother actually proposing?” 

Instead of answering, Louis pulls the ring box from his pocket and carefully lowers himself to one knee. He keeps the camera trained on Harry, wanting a record of his reaction when he realizes. Extending his palm, Louis flips the velvet box lid with his thumb, and Harry’s mouth drops open. 

“Lou? Is that—”

“Do you have a ring, Harold?”

Harry shoves his hand in his hoodie pocket and pulls out a little velvet box, opening it with visibly shaking hands, and muttering, “Can’t believe you interrupted my proposal with a proposal.”

“Sorry, um… You go ahead,” Louis says, closing the ring box in his hand.

“Really?”

“Yeah, babe. Ask me,” Louis says, nodding once quickly and steadying the camera. “I’m filming it, so you better have some nice words.”

“Shit, okay,” Harry says, clearing his throat, and looking down at the ring in his hand with a quiet giggle. “Here goes, um… God, I’m nervous. Haven’t been nervous in front of a camera in a long time. Okay.” He takes a deep breath, and says, “Louis, I… I never thought I’d be lucky enough to love someone like you. You’re… You’re my best friend and you make me laugh like no one else. You love me in a way that I didn’t know was possible… Fuck. I don’t know if I’m making any sense. You threw me off, Lewis.”

Louis huffs a laugh, sucking his lower lip between his teeth. “You done?”

“No,” Harry says, scowling at him. “I’ve been planning this for, like, a year.”

“Harold!” 

“What? It’s true,” Harry says, holding his ring out towards Louis. “I had to find someone to make a ring and I had to sneak and measure your finger while you were sleeping and I had to fish very carefully to find out if you preferred gold or silver or if you’d even want a ring. It was hard!” Shifting sideways, Harry sits down completely, crossing his legs, and looking at the ring in his hand. “I forgot everything I was going to say. Like, that you’re beautiful, only I was going to call you handsome and rugged, ’cause, you know, it’s like, our thing. And I wanted to tell you how I love your heart and how much you adore your family and how you’re such a good friend and I… I always want you to be yourself. And how who you are is just… the best person.”

Slowly, Louis sits in front of him, setting the camera down. “Are you going to ask?”

“I guess,” Harry says, pouting as he meets Louis’ eyes. “Will you marry me?”

“Yeah, babe. Of course,” Louis says, wiggling his fingers at him, and Harry scrunches his nose. “Can I have my ring?”

Harry nods and takes the ring from its box, sliding it onto Louis’ finger. “It’s the agate I found in Arkansas. The one that matches your eyes. I had it cut and polished.”

“Baby…” Louis’ voice cracks, and he wipes away the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, blinking at the ring he had made for Harry. 

“That was anticlimactic,” Harry complains, crossing his arms. 

“I haven’t even proposed yet,” Louis says, holding the ring box out for Harry. “Sometimes we’re too similar. It’s the diamond you found.”

“Louis,” Harry whispers, reaching for the ring, but Louis snatches it away.

“We’re so much alike,” Louis says, shaking his head and smiling. “It’s one of the things that I love about you. Not that you’re like me, but that we have so many things in common. So, like, of course we both planned to propose. Of course, we did. Can’t believe I didn’t anticipate it, honestly.”

“Can I have my ring?” Harry asks.

“Haven’t proposed yet, Harold,” Louis says, and Harry narrows his eyes, picking up the camera and pointing it at him.

“Go on, then.”

Louis' stomach flips and he holds his hand to his chest. “Oh, you’re right. It’s weird with the camera.”

“I did it. So can you,” Harry says, sticking his tongue out.

“Ugh. Fine.” Sitting up straighter, Louis looks directly at the camera, then at Harry. “I think I loved you the day we met. Or I thought I did. From the start, I was obsessed with making you smile. Making you laugh. Making you happy. But that… that was just a crush. I knew you, but I didn’t  _ know  _ you, you know?”

“I’m starting to wonder,” Harry says, pressing his lips together.

Rolling his eyes, Louis says, “I thought I loved you then, and maybe I did, but the way I feel about you now is like… it’s so much bigger. And it keeps growing. It’s everything. You’re everything to me, Harry, and I’m so in love with you.”

“I love you, Lou,” Harry says, putting the camera aside and leaning forward to take Louis’ face in his hands. He presses a kiss to Louis’ lips, and Louis grins.

“I’m not finished,” Louis says, and Harry sits back, glancing at the velvet box in Louis’ hand. Careful not to drop it, Louis plucks the ring from the box, holding it up between his thumb and forefinger. “Marry me?”

“Yes, honey,” Harry says, nodding convulsively, and rubbing his eyes with the sleeves of his hoodie. He extends his hand and Louis slides the ring on, lacing their fingers together. 

“I was going to propose tomorrow night,” Louis says, jerking his head towards the falls. “On the actual full moon.”

“Me too, but I was worried about the weather!”

Louis groans and lets go of Harry’s hand. “It’s supposed to be beautiful. Clear skies.”

“We can do it again, if you want,” Harry offers, getting to his feet. 

“No, but we should try to record something about the moonbow for Niall,” Louis says, pocketing the camera and his empty velvet box. “He’s going to be disgusted by our proposals.”

Leaning against the railing, shoulder to shoulder, they watch the falls. After a moment, Harry says, “Are we going to KFC?”

“Yeah, let’s go,” Louis says, taking Harry’s hand and tracing his thumb over the new ring on his finger. 

After they make their way back up the stairs, and away from the falls, Harry asks, “Are you disappointed that you didn’t get to do your hot air balloon proposal?”

Louis elbows him in the ribs. “Harold, don’t you know me better than that?” 

“Yeah, sorry. I was just wondering.”

“Are you disappointed that I proposed during your proposal?” Louis asks, pulling him to a stop. “I’m serious.”

“No, Lou,” Harry says, shaking his head and squeezing Louis’ hand. “It turned out better than I planned.”

“Yeah, I think so too,” Louis says, tugging Harry’s hand and lifting up on his toes to kiss his cheekbone.

╠╩╦╩╦╩╦╣ 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! ❤️
> 
> Now that this is off anon, [here’s my tumblr post for reblogging](https://kingsofeverything.tumblr.com/post/630877050004209664/by-kingsofeverything-with-fantastic-art-by) and a [tweet for retweeting ](https://twitter.com/kingsofthings/status/1312046615960715265?s=21):)
> 
> [ And there’s this post with all of Maggie’s art! ](https://kingsofeverything.tumblr.com/post/630877653177630720/hereforlou-extra-butts-in-gif-form-have-love)


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